What goes down must come up

Funny thing about food poisoning. If it's a good meal, you enjoy getting it even though you don’t know you’re getting it. It's only about eight hours later - when it decides to wake up and kick in - that you really sit down and re-evaluate your dining choices.

And you’ll be doing plenty of sitting down.

Last Tuesday I ate at The Counter in Hermosa Beach for lunch. If you haven't been there, and my guess is after reading this you won't be going anytime soon, it’s basically an upscale burger place. When you walk in, you’re greeted by the surprisingly uninviting, sparse, cold and unwelcoming décor. Once seated, you’re given a clipboard with choices of meats, toppings, buns and dressings, and basically get to build your burger. I’ve eaten at a few different locations in the chain, and always had a good burger there. In fact, the one I had last Tuesday was great.

Then, later that night…

About 10 pm I started to feel a little nauseous. About 10:10 pm, it had escalated severely and I began what turned out to be an eight-hour, home improvement extreme makeover from master bathroom into vomitorium. When there was a break in the action, I ran – and I do mean ran – to the kitchen to get a bucket, and then back to the bathroom.

Why the bucket? Well, remember the part about sitting down. Yeah, so that happened. I didn’t know I’d ordered the two-for-one special, if you get my drift.

Wednesday morning, after a completely sleepless night, I was wrecked. My throat was raw and raspy as could be, and when I tried to talk I sounded like Demi Moore in A Few Good Men. My ribs and abs hadn’t had that kind of workout in years. They’re still screaming at me not to do it again.

Also, because of that, I can’t find a comfortable position to lay down, so, no good sleep for the last three days.

I don’t remember checking any of this on the clipboard.

Yesterday, my wife called The Counter in Hermosa to speak with the manager and let her know what happened – not to get anything from them, just to let them know so they could check their food and make sure it didn’t happen to anyone else.

And guess what? The manager was very defensive. I know, I’m as shocked as you are.

“Where else did he eat?”

Nowhere.

“We’re very careful with how we handle the food.”

I’m sure you are.

“What toppings did he have?”

Whatever they were I’m sure he didn’t order the e coli.

Here’s the thing: I’m not 8 and I’m not 80. I was pretty much done with it in 36 hours. But is it really good corporate policy to act snotty and defensive when one of your customers is trying to tell you something that might actually help you – even if you don’t want to hear it? I promise you it’s not.

I might’ve been willing to write it off as a fluke if the manager’s attitude had been a little more appropriate. And their burger didn't make me feel like I was dying for the last couple of days.

But now, as I go down my list of burger places to eat at with my family and friends, there's definitely one box I won’t be checking.

Taking the high road

Here's something I don't tell a lot of people: occasionally - very occasionally - I watch the Weather Channel.

Fine. Use it against me. But I know more about tornadoes and typhoons than you ever will. And I'm sure that and the algebra I had to take four times will eventually come in very handy.

When I'm watching and see all the hurricane footage they show, I always think the same thing: I'll take our earthquakes over their hurricanes any day (although I'd like that day to be a Monday, because why ruin a perfectly good weekend).

With a hurricane, everything it touches is blown to smithereens. Houses become splinters. Cars become airborne as if they were the same size and weight as Hot Wheels. Everyone's life resets to zero and they have to start over.

I'm born and raised in L.A. I've been through a lot of earthquakes. And as a rule, about 98% of everything is still standing afterwards. Cosmetic damage, sure. But this is L.A. We have lots of people who know how to take something that's fallen apart on the outside and make it look better.

When it comes to earthquakes, the news is a cruel tease. Whether it's L.A. or Japan, the coverage would make you believe that entire cities or countries have been destroyed. Simply not true.

All of this brings me to Hermosa Beach.

I was down there walking around with my son last Tuesday, and we saw the sign you see above. Truthfully, tsunamis, or tidal waves, had never really been on my radar (that would be my Doppler radar). Unless the Weather Channel was doing a special on them. This sign immediately brought back images of the footage from Thailand in '04, and the tsunami in Japan after the most recent earthquake.

And as I looked at the sign, I just had one thought. Say goodbye to Hermosa Beach.

If you look just to the right of the sign, that's where the ocean is. Close isn't it?

And Hermosa is the quintessential sleepy beach town with all that implies: narrow streets, too little parking and too many cars, and a beachy little attitude that just screams, "Why the rush?"

They're goners.

So, as I sit in my house three miles inland on a small hill, I'd like to take a minute to say goodbye to Hermosa Beach, and let them know how sorry I am they spent good money on tsunami evacuation signs that aren't going to do jack when surf's up - way up.

I hope they at least made them waterproof.