My friend and I planned on having dinner the other night once she was done with her extensive hair appointment, which should only be a few hours, I was assured. Unfortunately, it took a bit longer than expected, quickly narrowing down our list of choices for a nearby nosh as restaurants began to close one by one.
As I ran down the remaining prime contenders, after all had turned on the closed signs as soon as we arrived, the one where the open light still shone brightly—at least for another hour—was Chick N Beer, 715 NW 23rd St., right next to where the late, lamented Vintage Plus once sat in Oklahoma City’s far dirtier days of true grimy glory.
While that area, for the most part, has been gentrified to near-Disneyland proportions of safety and subtlety, as a squad of police cars raced by with their lights flashing rapidly, it reminded me, if only for a moment, of those dangerous days long past as we entered through the precise frontage of Chick N Beer and found seating on the sparse patio.
I went inside to grab a couple of menus and, I must say, that all of the waitresses were extremely nice to me, seemingly a true rarity in many restaurants these days, especially to someone like me. As I placed our orders, I held onto the secret hope the food is just as delightful, drinking our various cooling beverages out in the sultry night, the sweat dripping down my back like something out of a terrible Tennessee Williams play.