I drove through the bright, sunny afternoon from the Unzoo, making it to Hobart in about an hour. I easily found my hotel, wandered up to the room to get some water before unloading the car, and… promptly fell face first onto the king bed and slept for an hour.
When I woke up (around 8pm), I had to fight mightily to face the rest of the evening. I knew I had to lug my bags up to the second floor. I knew I had to get some food for dinner. I knew I should probably drink more water.
After I finally convinced myself to get up off the bed, I slugged down some water and hauled the bags into the room. While doing that, I saw the hotel’s bistro had closed for the night. In the room, I was so tired that I contemplated not eating dinner and just going to sleep. Then I decided that’s probably a bad idea, so I identified a restaurant two blocks away, which looked tasty and was also open for another couple hours. I contemplated walking, then immediately thought about just skipping dinner and sleeping. I thought about taking the car two blocks, but then chided myself for being weak. Then I realized that the walk might be uphill, and somehow that convinced me that I could take the car in good conscience.
Soon, I walked into Waggon, a white-walled gastropub-style eatery where the staff wore retro striped bowling shirts and where 1980s tunes poured from the speakers. I decided I’d selected well.
I soon dove into a really, really good dark & stormy. I then immediately realized I should only have one, if only because I’d be asleep on the bar if I had two.
And then I peered at the menu. I saw a selection called the 100-Layer Duck Lasagne, “parmesan, blood orange olive oil, herbs.” Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I would have.
And friends, let me tell you, this lasagne was a life-defining experience. Every cell in my body evolved into a new level of being. I was angry that I existed a whole 50 years on this earth before putting this lasagne into my mouth.
After that, I didn’t technically need dessert, but I had to find out what this restaurant would do with dessert.
The dessert wasn’t as awe-inspiring as the lasagne, but to be fair, nothing could be. It was delicious. The item in the front was my favorite: white chocolate mousse with fresh and dried raspberries. And that dollop on the top? That’s meringue, not whipped cream.
Divinely sated and noticing that the restaurant was closing, I hopped back into my car and drove back to the hotel. Then I promptly fell face-first onto the bed and fell asleep.
