Breakfast at the Symposium

A couple of days ago, having gone for an early-morning walk in the park, I decided to eat breakfast at a restaurant that had recently opened for business in the neighborhood. Calling itself the Symposium Cafe, it was far more upscale in appearance than the previous establishment had been, which had been known more for cheap beer, the availability of street drugs and some rough clientele.

Once inside, I had to stand a few moments at the front entrance before a young, clean-cut man approached with slow deliberation and led me to a seat by a window. The interior of the restaurant was richly decorated, featuring large paintings on the walls depicting scenes from the classical period of Greek history and chairs with deep cushions that seemed to swallow one up when sat upon.

After some time had passed I was approached by the server, who apologized for the delay. The restaurant was not an especially busy place at that point.

"Nice day today," I remarked. "Good day to be outside."

"It's beautiful weather," she agreed. "I'm getting off early today so I can enjoy it. Would you like some coffee?"

Having established the fact that I wanted milk rather than cream with my coffee, she poured me a cup, took my order and went about her business. Settling into the plush chair and taking in the various sights around me, I took a sip of my coffee.

It was your standard brew: quite strong, with a hint of bitterness so characteristic of coffee that has been sitting in the pot for a while. I would have preferred a little more milk to go with it.

Breakfast was better than the coffee. The price for the meal was quite reasonable as well, all things considered.

All in all, not a bad way to start the day.