While Frederick and I were enjoying the show, Simon headed out to look for a nearby diner to enjoy a cup of coffee. However, given that Detroit has lost about 30% of its population in recent years and, today is a Saturday and the only time people come into Detroit is Monday through Friday for government jobs, Simon soon found out that a reasonable diner was not easy to find.
In fact, finding anything that wasn't a zombie apocalyse site was not easy.
Finally he found this, the perfect diner, albeit the razor wire surrounding it was a bit disconcerting.
And it seems to be confused about what "open 24 hours" means.
[This is Simon.] The main reason I went along, despite the fact there wasn't a ticket for me, was so that Jami wouldn't have to worry about Parking. Downtown Detroit is an odd mixture of classy things like the Fox, the Detroit Opera House, the Detroit Institute of Arts and the new Tiger Stadium, and TOTAL AND UTTER WASTELAND. The contrast is jarring. You can drive literally one block from Beverly Hills to Beirut. I picked this diner (which faced on to Woodward, which is the main street of Detroit and on which are the Fox and the DIA) because I had to sit SOMEWHERE, and it had its own free parking round the back (see above) although you had to drive down a narrow gap between two buildings to get to it. (The thing that looks like a collapsed film set for the Bride of Frankenstein (above) was right next door, on the side street.) I went in the back entrance and sat down in a comparatively deserted (and cold) part of the Diner, unaware that it went all the way around and the warm and Ritzy side was round the other side. I only discovered this because some homeless guy locked himself in the one toilet for the ENTIRE TIME and I, having partaken freely of the many refills of coffee, was bursting. On the way there, my waitress asked me if I'd paid yet. I had (at the register). Then she asked if I'd paid with a credit card. "No, cash." "You didn't leave money on the table did you?" [i.e. her tip] I acknowledged that I had. "Oh shit!" she said, and literally ran over there. Apparently that part of the diner is pretty much given over to street people.
While I was in there, it snowed steadily. When I came out, I had to kill a bit more time until Jami called me to pick them up at the curb, so I just found a deserted side street (easy to tell, because there were no tracks in the newly-fallen snow) to sit on with the heater running. Turns out there was NO shortage:
In fact, finding anything that wasn't a zombie apocalyse site was not easy.
Finally he found this, the perfect diner, albeit the razor wire surrounding it was a bit disconcerting.
And it seems to be confused about what "open 24 hours" means.
[This is Simon.] The main reason I went along, despite the fact there wasn't a ticket for me, was so that Jami wouldn't have to worry about Parking. Downtown Detroit is an odd mixture of classy things like the Fox, the Detroit Opera House, the Detroit Institute of Arts and the new Tiger Stadium, and TOTAL AND UTTER WASTELAND. The contrast is jarring. You can drive literally one block from Beverly Hills to Beirut. I picked this diner (which faced on to Woodward, which is the main street of Detroit and on which are the Fox and the DIA) because I had to sit SOMEWHERE, and it had its own free parking round the back (see above) although you had to drive down a narrow gap between two buildings to get to it. (The thing that looks like a collapsed film set for the Bride of Frankenstein (above) was right next door, on the side street.) I went in the back entrance and sat down in a comparatively deserted (and cold) part of the Diner, unaware that it went all the way around and the warm and Ritzy side was round the other side. I only discovered this because some homeless guy locked himself in the one toilet for the ENTIRE TIME and I, having partaken freely of the many refills of coffee, was bursting. On the way there, my waitress asked me if I'd paid yet. I had (at the register). Then she asked if I'd paid with a credit card. "No, cash." "You didn't leave money on the table did you?" [i.e. her tip] I acknowledged that I had. "Oh shit!" she said, and literally ran over there. Apparently that part of the diner is pretty much given over to street people.
While I was in there, it snowed steadily. When I came out, I had to kill a bit more time until Jami called me to pick them up at the curb, so I just found a deserted side street (easy to tell, because there were no tracks in the newly-fallen snow) to sit on with the heater running. Turns out there was NO shortage:
3 comments:
Glad you enjoyed the show anyway. Maybe Simon would have been better off enjoying it too?
xM
Reminds me of Wolverhampton in 1963. On the way back from our honeymoon and on the way to Africa Jane and I passed through it on the train. I couldn't help taking Beirut-style photos. Still got them somewhere, I think
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