McNellie's Pub Training Run & Monique's Cafe

Time: 31:44
Distance: 4 miles

I got off work a little early today when Scotty D came by the shop. We made our way over to Holly's house for a little McNellie's training prior to breadsticking. Holly and Saker were sitting on the porch sharing some scoops when we showed up for the run. There was a big pitcher sitting on the table with something that looked quite a bit like apple juice, it was in fact leftover beer from a keg that was appreciated over the weekend. The flat beer had been sitting in the pitcher since Monday when the keg had to be returned to the liquor store.

Scotty D, Skolnick and I were the only ones who were going to run this evening so we headed out for a short jaunt. Skolnick poured himself a Guinness before starting towards Campus Corner for the first part of our run. It was pretty dark and none of us were dressed in neon clothing so things got real considering the amount of traffic and number of puddles. We took a spin past Monique's Cafe which is where we were going to be dining in a few hours for our breadsticking outing. The place was empty, completely deserted, not a single patron. We looped back by the house and Skolnick enjoyed his beer while Scotty and I tried to drink the apple juice substance. I put the pitcher to my lips, got one taste, spilled more down my shirt, gagged and then handed it off to Scotty. He did a little better than I, but not great. That was rough. Absolutely terrible. I'd rather take a hot shot of whiskey.

The second part of the run was more eventful because a dog started chasing us. It was a friendly dog and just wanted to play, so I tested him out. I took off in a sprint to see how long Mr. Bojangles could hang. The answer? Not that far. I smoked that fool. After watching my brash celebration, Fido trotted back home tired and humbled.

We ended up at Monique's Cafe around 7 pm hungry for some authentic Caribbean cuisine. A crew of 6 started off and it soon swelled to 8. The food was great, but when we arrived there were still no customers. None. Zip. Zilch. People would come, look in the window and then walk over to Victoria's a pasta shop next door. I had the chicken curry roti, Holly had the Caribbean jerk chicken and Scotty had something with pork. Everyone enjoyed the meal including Aldwyn Sappleton. Sapp, as everyone calls him, joined us which brought immediate street cred to our table. It's not everyday you get to dine with an Olympian. The only disappointment of the night was when a fat Jamaican lady with colorful clothing, and a gap between her front teeth failed to greet us at the door with "a wan irie likkle place."