Back in May of 2016, I had to relocate from Los Angeles to Lafayette to help my mom, who had just been diagnosed with Stage 4 Cancer. Needless to say, it sucked. Consequently, as the brutal days would come to a close, I would stroll over to a local restaurant called Metro, quietly sit on the far end of the bar and have a gin & tonic. The staff were always impeccable, even when they were swamped. By June I would sit down and their bartender would simply put my drink in front of me, without a formal word exchanged. (Honestly, to this day, I've no idea if he even knew why some freak was there alone so often.)
As time went on, I chose Metro to meet up with old chums (I grew up nearby). And while I paid cash for myself, according to AMX, I used my credit card there over 20 different times, so we are talking literally thousands of dollars spent in roughly four months time; furthermore, we are talking (conservatively) going there three times a week--at least.
Back to my mom: her BIGGEST concern (by far!) was her little dog, Luna. Seriously. I don't wanna get overly bogged down on this, but it is an imperative to understand how significant maintaining the dog's happiness is for me to see to. After she passed, knowing NOTHING about how to take care of a dog, I started taking Luna everywhere I could, cause she was sooooo sad being alone in the house; well, Metro was naturally my first stop. Of course, I had to sit outside, and specifically in the back, away from the customers. I had no problem with that, whatsoever. Meanwhile, the staff was consistently gracious, always bringing Luna water--again without my even asking!!
So the other day a friend and I go there for lunch. Significantly, we enter through the bar/dining area, so I responsibly hold the dog in my arms as we are ushered outside. The waiter not only brings Luna water, but puts it down where she is sitting, on the elevated concrete flower bed, which allows her to see others, as well as smell the foliage. Again, this is VERY important to keep in mind, cause this is where Luna sat ALMOST EVERY TIME she joined me.
Then, suddenly, from out of nowhere, we hear the frantic, billowing voice of some guy, demanding the dog get down and on the ground immediately. (Since Luna wasn't on the lam, I immediately ruled out the police, but I briefly thought as much!)
I look to where the vitriol is coming, and it is from some fast-approaching big guy. Now, you gotta know I am not that big, so I can get defensive pretty quickly--especially when I think someone is an arrogant "bully," and even MORE SO when said bully accuses someone of wrong-doing without giving them their proverbial day in court. Furthermore, and to be perfectly honest, I am a tad EXTRA protective of the dog, since . . . well, HER BEST FRIEND JUST DIED!
Lonnnnnng story short, this guy turns out to be the owner Jack, who never even paused to politely--or even impolitely--introduce himself TO HIS ONLY CUSTOMERS, prior to manifesting a level of rudeness reminiscent of a hungover IRS phone operator. Jack could give a damn about my recent canine history with his establishment, particularly the fact that not ONE of his employees were either familiar with this particular rule or so smart as to cover for a "boss" possessing as much compassion for animals as Joe McCarthy did for Communists. (Jack, if you are reading this--or more likely having someone do so for you--please Google Joe M. to get my point. Oh, and while you are at it, you might as well throw in the word "irony," as well.)
After my retort, which was delivered up close to his face--well, sternum--Jack, thinking quick on his feet, countered it was dangerous for all the other guests. I'm laughing as I type this part out, cause I picture a slow 360 degree camera pan as Jack the Genius says this; cause remember, the place is a ghost town! Seriously, the patio can serve at least 50 people, yet we are THE ONLY TWO humans sitting there!
Incredulous with what is fast escalating into a suburban version of Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, I finally paused and looked at the ground where Jack insisted I put my mother's dog . . . and while I never ACTUALLY cleaned up after a fraternity party, I gotta say it resembled what I imagine their floor would look like around 2am.
Anyway, Jack asked/told us to leave. But to be fair, I did say I would never return first.
So to whomever is thinking of going to this place, know the employees are all awesome--much as the Haitians were under Baby Doc. read more