Lately, concerned citizens have focused their ire on the street-encroaching monstrosities enlarging the reach of nearly every restaurant in New York. These formerly modest joints, small in stature, have taken the sidewalk and the street by force, and are now looking for more territory to conquer. What about cars? What about pigeons? What about the putrid garbage that needs a sizable place to pile up for its semi-weekly collectors? Who speaks for them, with their grimy overalls and banana peels?
Last year, industrious restauranteurs began constructing outdoor structures as a place where diners could dine in the open air. But what now? There are those who wish to tear down these particle board cafes to make room for anything else. Not me. I’d like to see every restaurant have one. Then I’d like establishments that don’t even serve food have one. Like laundromats, banks, and public restrooms. Though the last one might become predictably problematic in the wild. Whatever, we’re a resilient nation and we’ve come too far to let a little alfresco urinal cakes get in the way of a great concept.
These structures say to the world, “everything is going to be okay,” and that’s even if everything isn’t going to be okay. When people see them, they think, “good, at least someone is making the most of a bad situation.”
That will do for a bit, holding people at bay. The more financial institutions and bathrooms with large outdoor umbrellas, the better. This time though, we must go farther. I’m talking about building fake restaurants with cardboard people (balsawood is fine ) that say the city is more vibrant than ever. Details matter. There should be people of varying sizes, with a person in the back receiving the Heimlich to bring some realism to the scene.
Things will get tricky in the winter when the frost makes it annual return. But by then, everyone could just go inside to eat.
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