This is not a review. This is a statement of place.
I am at a bar drinking a gin and tonic. I do not know what bar it it, it could be Frank’s, it could be Rivalry’s which is what it was before, it could be Jeff’s, which is what it was before that. They are all the same it seems.
It is Sunday at 7 and a band named Soup is playing the hits. IT could be the Doors, it could be Mumford and Sons. It could be a living embodiment of Classic Rock Radio come to flesh.
The bass player has a wireless set up and every now and then he walks among the crowd of middle aged weekend bikers and their women, though he does not interact with them. He probably has to get his ten thousand steps on his fitbit, that might be why.
The place is well busy with bikers ending the weekend. This is the nineteenth hole for the Harley set. The gin and tonic was seven dollars. Most are drinking bottles of beer. There are several boxes of pizza set up on a table and it looks like its free for everyone. Of course I ain’t going to risk it. I might not be included in the slice club. You can never trust supposed generosity.
There are couples at the bar pushing into each other like they are teenagers meeting the crush of their life. They are singing the words to the Paul McCartney song to each other.
An older couple come and get up to dance at every other song.
There is nothing about this place that is bad for those who want to be here. I am once again not on that list.
This is not a review. This is a hastily scratched note of rescue rolled up and placed in an empty bottle of GIlbert’s Gin and then thrown threw the waves, hoping for discovery.
Frank’s is located at 274 Shrewsbury Street