Lunch Turns Out to Be a Degrading Experience

Because I believe in redemption, I prefer not to tell you exactly where this happened.

But I will tell you that it was in a modest restaurant east of downtown San Diego.

It’s a restaurant with large helpings, decent prices and attractive waitresses. I eat there a lot; in the daytime the neighborhood rarely has a shooting.

I’m happily eating my lunch the other day when two determined-looking women walk in with clipboards and sheaves of official-looking documents.

The official-looking documents bear the letterhead of the San Diego County Department of Health Services. Just 2 feet from my table, the women and the proprietors engage in conversation.

One of the women strides to the front window, removes the large blue “A” placard and replaces it with a large red “C,” the lowest ranking given by the county in its restaurant inspection system.

That’s red , as in the multicultural symbol for danger.

At this point, I’m inflicting serious damage to a plate of Maria’s Special No. 6 and have a fully loaded fork in my mouth. I pause long enough to wonder if a shot of gamma globulin is in my future.

My mind’s eye focuses on my lower gastrointestinal tract and what might be occurring there. I continue eating, but I do push the salsa to a neutral corner.

A restaurant employee comes over and shakes my hand. Is he admiring my bravery or what?

Later, I telephone Javier Heras, a county health supervisor who oversees the sanitarians who inspect the county’s 5,000-plus eating establishments.

Less than 25 places get a “C” rating in any given year. If problems persist, they can be ordered closed.

Heras explains that my restaurant has been dinged for improper storage of octopus, food not being covered and lack of hot water for employee hand washing.

He sympathizes with me that switching from “A” to “C” at lunchtime can be off-putting for diners: “That could be disturbing, yes.”

I’m reviewing our conversation as I’m driving home. I turn off my radio.

If, perchance, there’s a bulletin saying my model of car is being recalled for defective brakes, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve had enough consumer protection for the day.

A Shrink for Newlyweds

Things of note.

* Love on the couch.

Carlsbad therapist Dr. Kevin Grold is the author of “The Love Report,” billed as “the book that takes the guesswork out of lasting, loving relationships.”

Now he’s got a new idea: People should give certificates for psychology sessions as wedding gifts:

“You’d be surprised how helpful three sessions can be for a new couple.”

* Yes, there is a San Diego horticulturist/landscaper/tree maintenance specialist named John Goodpasture.

* Sign in downtown San Diego: “Dental Injections, Resonance Mind Control.”

* A vagrant explaining why he is buying whiskey and whipped cream: “I like my Irish coffee in the morning.”

* A San Diego woman waiting in line at Traffic Court to pay her citations got so vexed she sprayed people with Mace.

* San Diego bumper sticker: “Save the Children. Teach Them at Home.”

The Notorious Huntermobile

More words.

* Vehicle watch.

Roll Call, the Capitol newspaper, reports that Rep. Duncan Hunter (R-Coronado) “is known around the Hill for having one of the most unkempt automobiles of any member of Congress: a big, burly black pickup truck covered in surfing bumper stickers.”

So unkempt is Hunter’s truck that a fellow congressman saw it parked on the street and put a note on the windshield to ward off capital cops:

“This is not an abandoned truck.”

* Farmer John.

John Kern, political consultant and former aide to various politicians, is running for the Republican Central Committee. He operates his consulting firm from his spread in Valley Center, where he also has 2 acres of orange trees.

That explains why he lists himself on the ballot as “farmer/businessman.”