Destination: Ralph Brennan's Jazz Café

T H E  S C E N A R I O:  Shepherd and feed a small mass of hungry US Bank customers after a long day of mind-numbing PowerPoint presentations, hand-waving and genuflecting (as told by roving reporter/Foo wrangler Bob 'Bobcakes' H).

Foo met 25 of her closest friends from the state and public sector in the hotel lobby. Moments later, they'd unknowingly begin 'Bob's Bataan Death March'—this time an easy walk to Downtown Disney. 25 minutes later, with whispers of mutiny coming from the crowd, we find the place and our destination restaurant: Ralph Brennan's Jazz Café.

Things start poorly as we are positioned at a long table dangerously close to a piano stage which is thankfully vacant upon arrival. The menu does not add confidence noting crawfish mashed potatoes as the side to the fillet. Thankfully we were able to liberally substitute from the menu.

"Hey—let's walk to the restaurant!" a six-word phrase often muttered by Bob in group events that can lead to eyeball rolling and/or blisters.

Surprisingly the food was quite good; not surprising the piano player who eventually arrived crushing all possible conversation, was hideous. The usual hours passed and with profiteroles tamping down dinner we headed outside where even more surprising, everyone—even the two poor soles in heels (get it...soles...heels?), opted to walk back to the hotel.