Hard Rock (7 April 2017)
What was it that compelled me to duck into the Hard Rock Cafe of all places? Especially when I could've gone to the Geographer Cafe, been outdide and had a better selection of drinks at a better price and better, friendlier service, or engagement. If I'd seen the menu before I walked in I'd have walked off.
The bar was hype when I came in, but all the happy that should be happy hour after work on a friday vamished. Weird.
Part of me wonders what kind of people come here. Loner guys, drinking in familiar surroundings - this drink is strong. I opted for a frozen margarita mixed by a bartender who says "beeer" like he's heard too many Texans request a "Bud". Amother bartender is juggling a la Tom Cruise in that bar movie I never saw.
The vibe here is not happy. It's playful behind the bar, but very insular.
And suddenly, Rosie, one of the three managers here strikes up a conversation. The "beeer" grouch is gone and so is my margarita, but it's lingering... and I'm working on a small glass of ice water, minimus sejuk, that was forgotten in the beginning.
Rosie excused herself to finish her tea. I could use a cup, maybe at that spot I was at last night.
The magic of the universe.
Earlier I mentally noted that I hadn't seen a dog or dreads since I've been here; today I saw both.
Hard Rock is still corny, but it's a symbol of America. Maybe I needed such a symbol today, but I doubt it.
I tweaked this pic a little bit, and I'm outta here. Note - might be a good idea to avoid this brand. It makes me different, or maybe it's the tequila.
