Our fathers brought forth on this street corner, a new restaurant and sports pub, conceived in the blink of an eye after a long night of drinking and javelin-throwing and without any sort of business plan or business acumen, dedicated to the proposition that all servers are created equal.
All the fancy words are just talk. The important thing is that I stepped out of my comfort zone today and experienced how the other half lives.
Some might say all you did was cross the fucking street and go to Four Courts so get over yourself. True. But what a big difference crossing the street can make.
Four Courts had people in it. Which was weird. Summers never has anybody in it. Part of that is because it is marketed so ferociously as a soccer bar that there's no reason to go there if there's not a soccer game being played.
A bigger part of it is because nobody is ever sure what the night's special is (unless you're back by the old pay phone and see the one ad affixed with blue electrical tape) or which shitty server is working the red room.
I mean the emptiness of Summers totally vibes with my anti-social tendencies, but its still nice to see a human face every once in while.
Especially after you try and order a beer just before happy hour ends and you stare into the blackest eyes of the purest evil and death from the deepest darkest depths of hell stares straight back.
Whoops.
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