Three Hours In Detroit

On our way home from NY, we had a too-long layover in Detroit. "We get to eat!" said D.

"Yippee!" said I.

Our vegetarian selves walked the length, the breadth, the width of the C and A concourses (is that the plural form? Should it be concoursi?) in search of sustenance.

What did we find?

Fuddruckers. Certainly they have a veggie burger. Puh-leeze, lady. Whaddryou thinkin? Ok, well screw YOU Fuddrucker's! Motherfudders! Excuse me while I post a complaint on their website. . .

The Mediterranean Grill? Like hummus, eggplant, basil, squash and crusty bread Mediterranean? Uh, no. Grillin' up some chickin' and some beef, they were.

Oh--I know, the Mexican place! A veg head's dream!? Beans, rice, tortillas, si? NO!!! I was astounded to see NOT ONE item on the menu except for the Beef or Chicken Quesadilla*. No thanks, but I did enjoy a crappy margarita for 8 bucks. I needed it to calm myself down a bit! This place didn't have a single vegetarian selection, I kid you not. Thanks Diego's you shithead airport restaurant. Although your staff persons were quite pleasant and nice.

*can be ordered with just cheese


Ok, then, how about the fancy Grey Goose martini bar? Surely I'll find a salad? A sandwich? C'MON! What RU thinkin? Twelve paninis and five salads on the menu and NOT ONE was without meat. Not one! Could they handle the concept of a veggie panini like the rest of the free world does on a daily basis? Do they KNOW the definition of salad for godssake? Apparently not.

We sat down anyway. I ordered the cheese plate and was handed the hugest pile of chopped up cheese I have ever set eyes upon. And those Pepperidge Farm fancy crackers that I haven't purchased in ten years, although I don't know why. . . I'm probably too organically snobby for PF these days.

D gave up and ordered a turkey gouda panini. Told you he wasn't a vegetarian anymore.

I don't expect ten vegetarian restaurants to every one "normal" restaurant--in an airport or anywhere. And I know I am completely and totally spoiled by living where I live, knowing I can add tofu and tempeh to anything on the menu that doesn't feature it as the main attraction of the dish.

But I do expect a few effin' options in a freakin' international airport. It was disgusting, really.

I had to walk up and down the concourse to get the cheese ball moving through my system before I boarded the plane. Good thing we had three hours. And no, I did not make my seatmates suffer.

Next time I fly through Detroit, I'm boycotting the entire food-court-gossip-magazine-crap-from-China thing and keeping my wallet in my bag. That'll teach 'em.