I don’t recall my trip to Cardiff, Wales, fondly. Oh, I’m sure it’s a wonderful place when it’s not pouring down rain on a Sunday morning between 9 and 11, when the only places open are a tiny gift shop and churches. Not that there’s anything wrong with attending a service, but they don’t serve much of a lunch there, you know? Nor did they have so much as a bag of chips at the gift shop, although the owner there did me one of the kindest favors in all my travels by calling the Hard Rock Cafe manager at his home and telling him to get his butt over to that restaurant’s gift shop so I could buy my collectible bear.
Otherwise, I would have been on that bus rolling along to Stonehenge without any redeemable moments in Cardiff. But unfortunately, opening the gift shop just for me was as far as he was willing to bend the rules. We couldn’t talk him into a burger and fries.
So our little party wound up at McDonald’s, dripping water on their linoleum floors. If we’d just had better timing, we could have feasted in these colorful local hot spots: