Tread slowly

for the night is young, and there's a bar across the street. The patios are full, and the streets warm with the smell of a summer night.

Wait, it's still April isn't it? Try telling that to the lovely lasses skin tight in their jeans. Try telling that to the kids who were out in the parks. And try telling that to the smile on every face.

Midweek as usual. But dressed to kill. Almost shuffling our feet away with it's siren call. And what better way to start it all than South Louies.

Yeah folks, maddening as it may sound to the reader looking to live vicariously through our wide eyed strut through the gastronomic epicenters this side of paradise, we had come to a stop sign that had made us pause, and take note that while the world may not be around much longer, there's a place on earth that every wanderer dreams of in their mad journey through the modern day martyrdom some wise guy phrased not so eloquently as making a living. It's the kind of place where the beers are cold, the wings are hot, the calamaris buttery, and the fajitas sizzle. A place where even the whisper of your thoughts is enough to conjure up the next round.

Yeah, we've been here before. And we'll be here again. If necessary again and again. And the rest of the world can wait while we wash down the melt in your mouth calamaris and the hot crunchy wings down with a golden mead brewed to frosted glass perfection. And the process of decompression fast forwards to the point where one says hello the way it is meant. To strangers, as you saunter down easy street on College.

On the way back we detoured. A minor matter of a car that had been maneuvred into an er tight corner. We managed to leave the tight corner to itself and the car in it's place. With a new set of scratches to match the old ones.

The bookstore. A series of requests nay sayed later, we managed to find a few things that we hadn't planned on finding. A Brothers Grimm volume, a couple of Margaret Atwood poetry volumes ... The circle Game, and the Journals of Susanna Moodie, couple of Ed McBains, a Dashiel Hammett, around 4 bucks each.

The usual stop at Ammo to refuel for movie, and it was back again to Square zero. All of a sudden I couldn't help envying the Night Owl.

For those not familiar with the song by Little River Band ...

There is a bar right across the street He's got a need he just can't beat Out on the floor he shuffles his feet away He'll get the girl 'cause he looks so fine He's gonna win her every time He knows he will, he's dressed to kill He's a night owl CHORUS: Move on, there's a howl of a night owl calling To belong, she's crying in the night Be strong, find the heart of a night owl falling Stay up till dawn Until the night is gone What will become of the restless kind Where do they go when they've done their time Wearing their hearts out on the line for all to see Must be the gypsy in their soul They have a need to rock and roll They always will, they're out there still They're the night owls Repeat Chorus

There is a bar right across the street He's got a need he just can't beat Out on the floor he shuffles his feet away He'll get the girl 'cause he looks so fine He's gonna win her every time He knows he will, he's dressed to kill He's a night owl CHORUS: Move on, there's a howl of a night owl calling To belong, she's crying in the night Be strong, find the heart of a night owl falling Stay up till dawn Until the night is gone What will become of the restless kind Where do they go when they've done their time Wearing their hearts out on the line for all to see Must be the gypsy in their soul They have a need to rock and roll They always will, they're out there still They're the night owls Repeat Chorus Repeat First Verse Repeat Chorus