Hag twangs at the Time Warp
I was the first customer to darken the doors of the Time Warp Tea Room late this morning.
I was meeting a source for coffee and conversation, doing research for an upcoming column. I spot the joint as I creep along North Central, pulling into a place just past the front door.
I go in, make sure my cell phone is on silent, and order an espresso. I laugh at the note on the counter. Those talking on cell phones won't be served until the conversation is ceased, it says.
"That's one of my pet peeves," I say.
The man behind the bar laughs and nods.
"It (the sign) doesn't work," the server says.
I say I'm not surprised.
I grab an alternative weekly I didn't know existed off the news rack. I look at the photos placed here and yon on the walls. I sip my espresso. I wait.
Country music, the real, good ol' classic kind, starts to play. I recognize the first song, but can't now remember what it was. Too busy talking. A bit later, the Hag begins to twang.
"I'd like to hold my head up, and be proud of who I am," Hag sings, a Branded Man, out in the cold.