Hard Rock Dismay
One of the great ironies of the Internet is while it seems the Great Web gives us access to every deep and shallow thought someone thought worthy of sharing, billions of pages of information and porn, in some ways it hasn’t broadened the view of the world among some people.
A recent example.
I found myself on a business trip to Irvine, Calif., deep in the heart of the O.C., Orange County, in the southland between LA and San Diego.
A couple of co-workers joined me at the hotel bar and chatted up the young lady/bartender, who was serving us.
In short order we learned she was going to school to become a speech therapist, lived in Garden Grove, another O.C. community and had never been to nearby Los Angeles or any of the neighboring beaches, as in Huntington, Newport, Laguna, Redondo, or Manhattan. This came up because we asked for some restaurant recommendations in the area, and her best effort were some we’d been to several times already at the Irvine Spectrum Center, 30 seconds down the road. Oh, she also knew of some good ones in Garden Grove but we weren’t interested.
At about the time we were learning this nice young lady’s alarmingly tight circle of familiarity with her surroundings, one of her co-workers chirped, “You should go to the Hard Rock Cafe’! There’s one around here and they’re pretty rare, so go to one while you can!”
Being polite and knowing we were representing our company we stifled all temptation to reply, “Are you effin’ crazy, kid? There are more Hard Rock Cafe’s than Beverly Hills boob jobs!” So we smiled and thanked her for the recommendation while one of us pointed out that we also have a Hard Rock Cafe in Detroit, although no one from Detroit is foolish enough to spend time or money there. She told us we were awfully lucky to be one of the few cities blessed to have a Hard Rock Cafe and like a bunch of dumb rubes we enthusiastically agreed, although not to the point of demonstrating the sign of the cross.
We finished our beers, tipped our friendly bartender generously, since afterall, she’s working her way through college and might one day care to venture more than seven miles from home, requiring just a little more gas money than she’s used to spending.
But we learned a valuable lesson…while we Millennials seem to always have their noses in their phones and appear constantly connected, they’re actually only connected to each other, which to me, is a form of social incest, rising my most fervent fears that the following generation will become known as the House of Windsor.