This post is a double dip of something I wrote about for a restaurant review site. As some of you know, my first trip to Dallas was under the dark cloud of Tex's dad falling ill. We decided to get out for a day, ride the DART downtown and do some sight seeing. We were told the Loon was a must, and so off we went, mindful of the present and trying to get a grasp of the future.
We were walking past the Magnolia and Sweet Husband gestures across Lemmon and says, "See that awning? That's where we're headed."
I followed his gaze through the bright sunshine, to which my own irises had not yet adjusted. Confused I reply, "The one that says Dentistry?"
"No, no. The green awning, to the left of that one."
"Ohhhhhh." I see it now.
"Oh," My concern is audible.
".... Are you sure?"
".... Are you sure?"
As we pull the heavy wood door toward us I try to imagine what we will find on the other side. I conjure up images of dense smoke, mullets, and lots of empties strewn about. Not bad things, mind you, when that's the vibe you're looking for - but it wasn't, not this day, anyway.
My eyes adjusted to the dark, relieved, both as a result of a respite from the sun and surprise in discovering what appeared to be more of pub than a bar notorious for it's stiff drinks and dedicated drinkers.
We cozied up to the counter, which had a few patrons spread around it. The mid-afternoon crowd had us as the youngest by ten, maybe twenty years. No mullets.
The bartender, a chipper and attractive twenty something, welcomed us, asking what we'll have to drink. It's the middle of a hot spring afternoon and I didn't know any better so I ordered a gimlet and called the booze. Sweet husband shakes his head and smiles. The bartender laughs with her eyes and I realize I have made a rooky mistake.
This is a drinkers bar. Not the place for a drink that requires glassware with a stem.
She skillfully shakes the gin as she explains that no one has ordered a gimlet in all the time she's worked at the Loon. I'm lucky, she says, that she also works another joint on Knox/Henderson. The beverage is refreshing and perfect and I appreciate that we can chalk this up to a learning experience.
We get to chatting. I tell her it's my first day in Big D; I'm here visiting my Mister who's already relocated for his new gig. The Loon was recommended by friends who relocated here before us.
After checking out the specials board, which includes full dinners that would sound quite good if I were hungrier, we order a club sandwich to share and a side of fries. Both were tasty. I was surprised at the amount of non-fried options on the menu and tucked that tid-bit aside for a future visit.
She gives us a virtual tour of hot spots, dives, and the various neighborhoods that make up the area. She asks what I do for work and offered some tips on where to look when I move down.
We finish our food, thank the amiable wait-staff and make our way back outside.
"I think I'm going to like it here," I say. We hold hands and greet the sun.