“Bang the drumstick slowly,” I ominously said to no one in particular as we entered the atmospheric Drum Room, 4309 N. Western Ave. It was a long-awaited—for me, at least—sampling of the famed Western Ave. chicken outlet, after several hungry attempts when the place was momentary unavailable for my famished needs.
But everything, for once, seemed to come together for this visit. I was on a date with a new friend, and we had made it in time for that magic moment when the sky was a burning red hue, causing the floor of the Drum Room to be covered with a reflective blanket of fiery dusk. I know I say this a lot but, really, it was the perfect moment for fried chicken.