“Of course. I’ll call you once my meeting at the restaurant ends.”
As soon as I get off the phone, I order a rideshare. Then I throw on my shoes, swing my backpack over my shoulder, and head out the door.
It only takes us ten minutes to get to the restaurant. The moment the driver gets off the freeway, I see the restaurant with its new sign. My face beams with pure excitement. I’m sure it is written all over it. It looks great.
The placement on either side of the building is meant to hit all the traffic coming both north off the freeway and the east side of the major intersection. “Shit, this looks good,” I mumble to myself.
When the driver pulls up, Harry is already waiting outside for me. He cranes his neck up, staring at the same sign that caused me to become awestruck.
“We have a sign!” he excitedly calls out while pointing to the wordsThe Poppyin large bold letters on the side of the building.
I tilt my head upward as well, lowering my sunglasses to get a better look. “That sign looks awesome. It’s exactly what we had in mind. I saw it as soon as we came off the freeway.”
“Perfect.” Harry nods, walking toward me. His arm comes out to greet me, and we shake hands. “How was your flight?” he asks when we round the corner to the entrance.
“Quick and easy,” I tell him. “Oh, and I ran into your sister at the airport. No surprise that she wasn’t super happy to see me.” I laugh, hitting his shoulder.
“I’m sure she wasn’t. Did she bust your balls a little?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.
“Of course, she did. But I had fun giving it back, though.” I open one of the glass double doors, allowing Harry to enter first.
“What is it with you guys? You both annoy each other so easily,” he comments as the sounds of heavy machinery begin to drown out our conversation.
The framing of the bar area, semi-private event space, and kitchen look like they’re starting to go in. Wooden beams are scattered all over the floor as Harry and I make our way to the back where the kitchen is located. The live plants that will hang from the ceiling around the perimeters of the bar line the floors.
“Those are real, right?” I call out to one of the workers.
“Yes, sir,” he answers.
“Good. Make sure someone waters them every day until we open,” I say.
“Of course,” he says, then gets back to bolting in the panels of the bar uplighting.
Jake, our construction manager, scurries over in our direction, carrying two pairs of safety glasses and two hard hats. “Hello, Mason. Hello, Harry. It’s nice to see you both. Here, take these.” He greets us, handing over our protective gear.
While Harry and I put on the hat and glasses, wood and dust particles fly through the air. “Let’s get started, shall we?” I say, gesturing for Jake to lead the way.
After a few hours at the restaurant, Harry and I complete our walkthrough. Everything is coming along well, and we’re bothpleased with the progress. I’m looking forward to seeing our first concept restaurantThe Poppycome to life.
Before meeting my dad and Terri at the restaurant for dinner, I caught a rideshare back to the hotel to get in a quick workout, shower, and change.
In the car on my way over, my dad sent me a quick text saying that he and my stepmom got us a table inside toward the back.
I’m greeted at the hostess station by three women dressed in all black. The one with the long blonde hair and gold earrings escorts me through the restaurant. I glance around, taking a mental inventory of the place. I’ve always been fascinated by the experience that can be created for people while they dine. I like to compare it to telling a story.
The environment and aesthetics are the illustrations, offering images that are vibrant or dull. The servers act as narrators, curating the way through your courses like chapters and guiding you through your journey. The chefs and kitchen staff are the main event—the conductors and authors of the story. The most important piece, the food. The dishes are the main characters, the elements that you bond with and root for—it’s what keeps you coming back for more. What you will ultimately recommend.
This restaurant is dull.
The simple colors throughout the main dining room make the inadequate lighting even worse. It’s too dark to be romantic or elegant but too light to be more of a casual dining spot. And from the brief look at the menu on the way over here—the prices do not support casual dining.
Why am I the way that I am? I haven’t been able to go to a restaurant without judging every aspect of it since I was in high school. Despite my best efforts, I always end up mentally listing off all the things I like and don’t like about it.
When my dad sees me approach the table, he lifts out of his chair and wraps his wide arms around me like he did when I was a kid, except now I’m the larger one. “Good to see you, Mason.”
“Good to see you,” I return, then greet my stepmom with a warm hug.
“It will be nice to have you around more. We’ve missed you the last year that we’ve been away,” Terri says, kissing my cheek.
