july 29 pms

My friend and I had dinner at a restaurant/bar that's been in its location in its neighbourhood since 2008. It's not a hundred years old and its bar isn't made of wood salvaged from [insert great Canadian shipwreck story here], but it's still a bit of an institution. At one point, I got into a conversation with the middle-aged server. She told us that she'd been working there since the place opened. We talked a bit about the restaurant and about the kinds of clientele it attracted. She confirmed my suspicion that the place had stayed open for 18 years due to the people who lived in the neighbourhood; the street it is on isn't some secret street, but it also wasn't Bloor, College, Dundas, Queen, or King. This made me feel good. I like a neighbourhood restaurant because I like being a member of the home team. It's a badge of pride, I think, to be among the small group of folks who dine at or otherwise patronize a place from Monday to Thursday. The home team keeps the lights on. The home…