Sweltering At The Doc’s

Okay, last time I had us in Corpus Christi. We were there for our 43rd Wedding Anniversary. Which is sort of amazing when you think about it. I mean, really, some countries don’t last that long.

Anyway, it was our ‘versary, and I wanted to do it right for Martha. In particular, I wanted to take her to a really nice place for dinner. I did some research on the web (not...enough) and I canvassed a couple of locals at the hotel.

The Word? Oh, said one and all, for an Anniversary? You gotta go to Doc’s.(*)

Doc’s? I said.

Doc’s they said. It’s great. On the water. Family place. Terrific food. Been there for...like...ever. And ever. And evah.

Okay, I said, Doc’s it is. I looked it up on the web. I called and made a reservation. Perfect, I said. Always ask a local, I added. Inside Information and all that.

So, that evening, we dressed up nice...Martha in turquoise and spiny oyster jewelry, me in a New England islander-themed shirt...and we headed off.

It seemed to take forever, but finally, we crossed a bridge to Padre Island and there, on the shore, was Doc’s Seafood & Steaks. It was a really cool looking building. It was a big structure, build up on stilts in the way of a true beach house. All *real* beach buildings are up on stilts. It just isn’t right otherwise.

About the photos: First, the two of us at Doc’s. You’ll note I’m a little flushed. And sweaty. A lot of sweaty. Second, Doc’s exterior. Third, a sunset at Doc’s. Fourth, the causeway which takes you from Corpus to the island. Fifth, another Doc’s sunset. Sixth and finally, from earlier in our trip, the sea and sky at Swantner Park.

It was obviously popular. There was an enormous parking lot, and that lot was almost full. We weren’t the only tourists to be there...though, Doc’s seemed to be one of those rare places where locals can actually outnumber us visitors. Which, of course, is evidence that the food is actually good.

We parked and began our long march to the restaurant itself. Then we walked up a ramp to reach the dining room. I opened the door for Martha, and...

Bedlam!

There was a huge crowd and it was Loud. There was also a live band. An amplified live band. With big whomping amps. As in Spinal Tap 11 amps.

We moved slowly into the room and we were then escorted to our table. That was when we realized there were huge open doors and windows on the bay side of the restaurant. It meant we had a great view and later on we got some terrific photos of the sunset.

But...that also meant it was hot. As in Hot. As in really, really HOT. This was August, after all, and there was no air conditioning. Maybe if we’d been there later at night, we’d have gotten some nice cool sea breezes...but we weren’t. And we didn’t. And pretty darn soon my New England beach boy shirt was wet as a dishrag. And twice as ugly. Not to mention smelly. So I won’t. Mention it, I mean. Use your imagination.

We ordered...with the waiter shouting at us so we could hear him in all the noise...and us shouting back at him. Then we waited. We tried to talk. But we couldn’t hear each other. The food came...and by the by, it was fine. But, I did wish I’d ordered ice cream instead of a hot meal. Or maybe just a 55 gallon drum of cracked ice. And a bathtub.

Actually, I don’t mean to say anything bad about Doc’s. I really wish we’d been there at some other time. Say, December. During an ice storm. When all the other guests were monks who’d recently taken a Vow Of Silence. And the music was provided by Toni Whisper and the Soft Tones. But, we were there on our anniversary. I’d had this idea it was going to be quiet. And cool. And quiet. And cool. And did I mention quiet? Well, anyway...

So, not to put too fine a point on it, I realized I had screwed up royally. Maybe more than royally. Maybe imperially. I mean, I’m the Napoleon of screw ups. The Alexander of fiascos.

Martha was brave about it and was kind to me re: my latest and greatest blunder...but we didn’t linger for a drink.

I think even the waiter was suffering from the heat and noise. All I know is that he was repeatedly wiping his face with a paper napkin, and when we asked for the check, he whispered conspiratorially “I’ll get you out of here right away.”

We exited. It was a little cooler outside, and, like I say, we did get some great photos of the sunset. And the following night we made up for the hot and sticky dinner with a really nice evening.

But...

You know.

Just once...just once...

I’d like everything to go smoothly. As in really smoothly. As in as smooth as freaking silk. As in...to use a fine old German expression I just learned on the Web, “glatt wie ein Babypopo.”

Literally, as smooth as a baby’s bottom.

I don’t usually go in for German, but you got to admit, sometimes it has the mot juste.

Or what that be the mot Wurst?

Whatever.

More to come.

Footnote:

* Doc’s Seafood & Steaks https://www.docsseafoodandsteaks.com/

Copyright©2026 Michael Jay Tucker

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