Notice anything missing there? Yep, you guessed it. No chips. What? We're supposed to eat this stuff with a spoon?
If you find yourself wandering somewhere around the Waterfront, maybe strolling across the Big Four Bridge, and you get that rumbly-in-the-tummy feeling, you're likely to think, "Hey, Tumbleweed's right over here! Let's go have some chips and salsa!" And maybe a burrito, or, if you're more health conscious, perhaps a grilled-chicken taco salad.
Well, if you have that thought, let me just warn you: Don't do it. Just tell your rumbly tummy no. No!
It must be really hopping today, we thought after we arrived and were told there was a 10-15-minute wait for outdoor seating.
We waited 25. At that point I had just risen to tell the hostess that we'd just take whatever was available. As it happened, as I was approaching the hostess station, I received the text stating that our table was ready. There were three of us. A party of six was being seated at the same time we were.
I expected to see a lot of full tables when we were led to the outdoor patio. Instead, most of the tables were empty. Okay, I understand that staffing levels dictate the wait rather than table availability, but still.
The children were already a little disgruntled at having had to wait half an hour to be seated.
We were ushered to a spot in the sun in the middle of the patio.
At the adjacent table, the manager was trying to placate diners who were complaining about the service. She explained that the issue was not with their server, but with the kitchen. I was thinking, "Yeah, right."
We did a little musical chairs at the table, as two of the three in our party didn't want the sun hitting them in the face. And then we sat. And waited. And waited. The debate began to percolate over whether we should just get up and leave or flag someone down to find out who our server was.
I had a pretty good idea who our server was supposed to be. It was the guy who'd been the target of the earlier complaint and was doing everything he could to make the folks at the other table happy—at our expense of course. I was going to flag down someone to ask who our server was, but it was like trying to communicate with factory robots.
Eventually, our server came to the table to take our drink order and get us some chips and salsa and was gone before I could tell him we also wanted a queso.
And then we waited again. When he finally returned with our drinks, I told him we wanted to order a queso. At this point, we were still without chips and salsa, a fact that seemed to escape his notice.
Once again he vanished. And we waited again.
I saw him flit numerous times from a table just inside the open patio doors to one just outside a few feet away from ours. Not once did he make eye contact with us or stop by to check on us. It was really as if he was deliberately ignoring us.
Once again, our conversation turned to whether we should get someone to call the manager over or just leave. I was leaning heavily toward just getting up and leaving.
Someone from the kitchen materialized at the table with a cup of queso and placed on our table, once again oblivious to the fact that there were still no chips, and disappeared before our shocked astonishment could wear off enough for us say, "Yo, where are the chips?!"
And we sat there stunned and dumbfounded, staring at a lonely bowl of queso, for half an hour. The consensus was for us to call for the manager instead of leaving, but I honestly just wanted to leave at this point.
I flagged down another server who was busily taking care of the party of six that was seated at the same time we were. By this time they already had their meals.
I told him I wanted see the manager. He asked if there was anything he could help with in the meantime, and I pointed to the solitary queso in the middle of the table and told him that we could also use a refill on the drinks we'd emptied long ago.
He returned with chips, salsa and drinks. I thought he was also fetching the manager as well, but she never showed up at our table.
So we nibbled at the chips, salsa and queso and waited even longer. Eventually, our server resurfaced again to find out if we needed a drink refill. We did.
His absence this time around wasn't quite as long, but his visit to our table was just as brusque as the previous.
After finishing off the chips and queso, we sat drumming our fingers for another long wait.
Eventually, our food arrived and we were finally able to eat.
We arrived at Tumbleweed at approximately 15 minutes after 2:00PM. We were seated at 2:40PM after a 10-15-minute wait. We had our meals in front of us at 3:45PM and left sunburned and disgruntled around 4:30PM.
As we walked through the restaurant, we passed the manager as she was having a discussion with diners at one of the indoor tables, no doubt defending her staff against complaints.
Thus Tumbleweed on the River has been added to our growing list of establishments we shall never visit again, no matter how famished we are.
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