The restaurant is abuzz with chattering pairs and groups, which I find surprising for a Wednesday night. It’s not full, but it’s not empty, either. A happy medium.
I order a Diet Coke. He laughs in a fake-apprehending way, shaking his head, and asks for root beer.
Walk into the foyer; it seems more spacious than the last time you were here. Make your way to the main room. Be careful while maneuvering through the rows of chairs, it’s dimly lit. Sit in the same plastic chair you’ve sat in hundreds of times.