Adventures in Outdoorland

Yesterday we went exploring in the wilds of suburbia, specifically the retail and entertainment complex known as Patriot Place that has sprung up like so much crabgrass around the fringes of the stadium's property down in Foxborough. Don't get me wrong, the Kraft family is obviously a very smart group of business people, but the Christmas Tree Shop and Victoria's Secret seem just a little incongruous.

The original purpose driving our visit was to look at some shoes. The shoes were at the Bass Pro Shop, which is an outdoor emporium the likes of which most people in this part of the country, myself included, have not seen. Yeah, sure, I've been to the Bean mother ship in Freeport and so have you, but as the Mrs. put it, "this place is like L.L. Bean on crack."

I was in search of something specific that I had seen on their web site, but I didn't want to order it because I didn't know if they would fit, and then I would have to pay shipping both ways because Bass Pro is one of those stores that does not allow web order returns at their stores. So I figured it was just easier to go there, try on the shoes, and see if I liked them, and I was curious about the place anyway.

If you've spent time in the midwest or the southeast and you do anything outdoorsy, chances are you've visited one of these stores. They are huge and rustic, and there are hundreds of taxidermied animals decorating the place. The whole store is built on two levels surrounding a pool and waterfall, and in addition to the clothing, there are acres of fishing equipment (including boats), lots of camping equipment, archery gear, guns, and just about anything else you could think of for an outdoor activity. It's retail as theater.

I took a spin through the men's department before heading to the shoes. They have a couple of their own labels, and some of that stuff was mildly interesting and reasonably priced, but nothing made me want to take it home. I ended up not liking the shoes, so I didn't buy anything. I might consider buying something there in the future, but I probably don't need to visit the store again. The Mrs. managed to entertain herself for about half an hour before losing interest, as well as being seized with a strong feeling of being somewhere she didn't belong.

The story would end there, except we were hungry, it was dinner time, and there are about half a dozen restaurants in the Patriot Place complex. We drove to the other end where the stores and restaurants have been assembled in a village-like layout, walked around for a few minutes, and decided to eat a a place called Red Robin. Apparently the Foxborough area has been lacking for weekend casual dining destinations, because it seemed like all of Norfolk County was either waiting for a table or already eating. There was a Revolution game taking place but it had already started, so presumably the people in the restaurant weren't going to the game.

We ordered burgers, which are supposedly Red Robin's specialty (it's a chain with some 400 locations, but I believe it's pretty new to this part of the country). They took an inordinately long time to arrive; at one point, after 15 or 20 minutes had gone by, our waitress came by to tell us our food was taking longer than expected, and she was on her way to the kitchen to see what was up.

You'd expect this might lead to the food arriving in another couple of minutes, but it was about another 15 before the food appeared. Both burgers had been prepared wrong: I had asked for no mayo, and there it was on the bottom bun, and the Mrs. had asked for her mayo on the side, and it was on the burger. Not only that, but she was disappointed overall because she thought the turkey patty tasted too processed.

When we told the waitress, she apologized profusely and promised to find a manager. A few minutes later a young fellow came over and introduced himself as Pat, the kitchen manager. He too apologized and offered to take both burgers off the bill, leaving my beer. So the total, which had been around $27 before tip, was now $6 plus tax. After Pat left I looked at the Mrs. and said, "Does it taste any better now?" We made sure to give our waitress, Sarah, a generous tip, because clearly whatever was going on was beyond her control.