I came to post more about the Morgan Fire; when I previewed the post, I saw a notice that an ad could appear on the page. I don’t blog with ads on the content, so I’m done– good-bye.
THE HEART OF THE CITY HAS BEEN BROKEN… AGAINFAREWELL$$$$$$$$$$$
That’s what Sticky Chicken and Ribs seems to be saying to its Antioch customers.
It’s been well over a month, if I recall correctly, since I first showed up at their door to buy some chicken, and found this sign. I felt a lot of sympathy and hoped nothing too damaging or dangerous had occurred.
I showed up again a few days later, because, you know, the sign said “Closed TODAY.” Which, like a fool, I took to mean the day I saw it. The same sign was still there. I took this picture a couple of days ago.
The second time I saw it, I called the Brentwood store, and asked about the Antioch location. She said she didn’t know if it would be opening again, ever. So clearly, even at that time, they knew it was not a temporary one-or-two-day problem.
Honestly, I can’t tell you how disgusted I am by this sign. We’ve had them around the corner from us for several years, and we’ve patronized them maybe three times a month, on average. They’ve always been friendly, straightforward, reliable, reasonable and GOOD. I know they’ve had some problems– broken windows, stolen TVs, etc. But I didn’t have anything to do with that, and neither (I assume) did their other customers, of which there were plenty. I walk by there frequently, so it didn’t take me long to figure out the score, but other people drive there on purpose. Is it really TOO MUCH TROUBLE to hand-scrawl another sign when you come by to pick up the mail? Here, I’ll help:
Due to circumstances beyond our control (or by our choice– whatever) this location will be closed till further notice. We are sorry for the inconvenience; please visit us at our Brentwood store. We value your business and hope to see you soon. Love, Sticky.
Really, is it that hard to be considerate, and tell the truth?
I’ve been trying to think of a suitable commentary to go with this incident, but to tell you the truth, it scared the hell out of me, and I really can’t. I couldn’t even get a very good picture from this side, and I didn’t walk around the back and pursue it. But you can tell how close it came to the houses there– point-blank range. About two blocks from us.
The horrible relentless heat was scary enough, and I have air-conditioning. That first night, I looked out the back window at about eleven, and this is pretty much what I saw. It took a couple of seconds to register. We were getting ready to run, and from what I heard later, there was controlled panic in the homes right next to it.
How do you even find out what’s going on? Luckily I have a scanner, and though I don’t really know how to operate it, it did its job on its own, that night. So, within forty-five minutes or so, I heard them cancel the call for back-up, and the evacuation plans. And I saw the flames go out.
But I had a terrible time finding anything about it even the next day. The only information I got was from East County Today, which I found with a search engine. That’s where I learned it started at the water treatment plant, and apparently was put out before a transformer blew. Although from what I heard through the grapevine, the people up there heard something go off when the fire started, so I still don’t know the full story.
Anyway, the fire crews clearly did a terrific job of putting it out quickly, and they deserve more credit than they got, in my opinion. It was a huge, urban fire, in the worst weather conditions, and it could have been an absolute disaster.
Oddly, as close as we were, we never had even a whiff of smoke, either during or after. The wind was in the other direction, and ten miles away in Brentwood, they were completely enveloped in it.
Why are they always red? There must be a reason, though I don’t know it.
We followed this ship from Sherman Island back into Antioch, on Mother’s Day. I always think it must be so strange to sail out at sea for days, or weeks, and then to be in a river, with land all around, especially once you’re in the deep water channels, a hundred miles inland. Like being a fish in an aquarium.
This was taken at the end of G Street, overlooking the Riverview pier. I’ve been taking pictures with my new phone. It’s just an inexpensive flip phone, the kind you see old people arguing about on television, but it’s the first one I’ve had with a camera. That’s how I took the picture of the Mecca too. I was a little distressed by the low quality, until it occurred to me it might help to take off the protective plastic film on the front, which was covering the lens.
You can’t post too many ships, IMO. I have other pictures in the drafts, that I’ve been saving, but I can’t get up the energy to comment on. Not beautiful, but informative. I’m going to try to get to them, before they’re out of date.
I’ve always been a little hazy on the dividing line between the New Mecca and the old Mecca, if any, but anyway, it now deserves the name, as the old section has been “restored” (cleaned up) and a lovely new section, including outdoor tables, added on. It’s been this way for awhile, I guess, but I don’t get there very often, so it was a surprise to me.
I wrote about downtown Pittsburg awhile back, and it continues to look nice, and there are actually people there on a Saturday afternoon– not millions, but enough to make it feel alive. Not a ghost town like downtown Antioch.
My only complaint is about the hanging flower baskets. I mean, come on. It’s still Pittsburg. It shouldn’t be a place a steelworker is ashamed to walk down the street in.
And by the way, food was great, ambience was great. The waitresses were suspiciously well-endowed. But all in all, if I were a real person, I’d hang out there.