Teeth of the City

Night had fallen on the city. As I looked out the window of my twentieth floor apartment the buildings which had seemingly just moments before been bathed in sunlight now became a million small squares of artificial light as the switches all went to the "on" position. I stared a moment at what always looked to me like a still shot from a sci-fi movie. It never failed to amaze me how futuristic the city looked when the lights first came on. I walked over to the far window and checked the freeway that runs just above the surface streets as if it was suspended above the actual city and not really a part of it. I guess that way drivers can pass through and see the sights and tell people "Sure, I've been to the city", but still feel safe on their passageway above it all. I've seen the looks on peoples faces who have accidentally gotten off the wrong exit and found themselves down on the surface streets. The scared, please help me looks the suburbanites always get when they find themselves not on the freeway but right in the teeth of the city. Whenever I see that look I always smile. I just can't help it. What I saw from my small glass vantage point was a sea of red tail lights heading away from the city and another sea of luminous white headlights heading towards it. Same as every night, but still I look. Always I look.

After a short elevator ride I walked through the lobby of my building and out onto the street. The doorman offered a "hello" and I gave him a wave. He seems like a nice guy, the doorman. I can't seem to remember his name at the moment but I've always thought he seemed ok. He always offers a greeting of some sort and in the teeth of the city, that's saying something. Sometimes I think the official language of this city is annoyed grunts or quick, dismissive waves of a hand. I understand though. In this city if you don't know somebody, like actually know them, you're better off just doing enough to say you weren't quite rude and then continuing on your way. Now please don't get me wrong here. I'm not talkin' down about the city. I actually love it here. In fact, there's no place I'd rather be than right here. I'm just tryin' to let you know how it is.

After half a block I have to stop and button my coat up as its gotten cold as hell out here tonight. whenever I leave the house I start out with my coat open and my gloves in my coat pockets just as a kind of "fuck you" to mother nature. You know, just to let her know that she can't break me. Usually before long I give in and bundle up but next time I'll start out the same way again. I ain't givin'up. No sir. Fuck that bitch.

A couple blocks down is Mahoney's Tavern and I step in the wooden door which faces the corner of the block. As I walk into the room the first thing I notice is warmth on my face and the second thing I notice is the smell of beer and whiskey and something deep fried like chicken fingers or maybe jalapeno poppers. I instantly feel my mood lighten. The seriously overweight bartender glances over at me from just above the large cheeseburger he's inhaling and then puts the burger down and waves. I step over to the bar and say "You know you're gonna end up with heart disease John, don't you?"

"Fuck heart disease." he answers "You only live once, right? Might as well enjoy the ride I say."

"All right, all right," I tell him "I'm just bustin' your balls In fact, tell Ralph to fire me up one of those mother fuckers. Extra cheese and covered in pickles. And draw me a draft, I'm thirsty as a fish in the desert."

"You got it." he tells me then yells "Yo Ralph, fire a burger. Extra cheese, extra pickles."

I see Ralph poke his head out of the small service window next to the bar where he puts plates of food for the waitresses to pick up and take to customers. He looks over and gives me a nod of acknowledgement. I give him the finger and he lets out a chuckle before disappearing back into his small kitchen behind the service window. Ralph is the only employee in the kitchen and you would think there would be a long wait for anything ordered but actually, food service is fairly quick. For one, Ralph is very good at what he does and two, this place is never all that busy. Even on the weekends the staff is usually one bartender, one cook and one waitress. People come into the city to eat at the fancy upscale places downtown. Places that are "zagat" rated and that kind of shit. They don't come into the neighborhoods to little hole in the wall type of joints like this. The only people ever in here are locals from within the surrounding few blocks. It's a small place, you know, just your typical neighborhood corner bar. Exactly the kind of place I like. Nothin' fancy, just cheap beer and good old fashioned greasy, terrible for you food. The kind of food that would make vegans shit their pants.