Missing Harris, a Disertation in the Blogetian Style of the early 21st Century
“Boy, do I miss Harris Grill,” I’m thinking as I sit on my stoop at 5826 Pierce St, just around the corner from the still-burninated establishment where I’ve met the majority of the people I know in Shadyside. “I moved here to be close to Harris,” I tell people, semi-jokingly as we try and pretend like beer tastes as good at other bars on the street. Everyone can see through my sarcasm, though, and they all sigh a little in memoriam.
“It was like the emperor was wearing no clothes.” The statement is in an old City Paper article and was made by Alex, one of the bar’s owners. It makes me laugh outrageously, somewhat reminiscent of the copy on the menus and emails that the bar puts out.
My sister recently left Pittsburgh to move to Australia. Some close friends are spending a few months in Eastern Europe. Those were the people in Pittsburgh who’s phone numbers I knew. Everyone else was pretty much just a contact from Harris Grill. Want to see So-and-so, hang out at Harris for a few hours and they’re bound to show up. Now where do I find those people? On rare occasion I’ll see one of them smoking a cigarette in front of Crazy Mocha at some ungodly hour of the evening. When they should be knee deep in libation and bar gossip, instead they’re standing around doe eyed sipping coffee and wondering what in the hell their life has meant up to now.
“The prospect of a Christmas spent with family instead of our loved-ones is devastating,” says one of them, or at least someone probably will say that. I can only weep for the hundreds of 24 – 40 year olds who will have to spend this holiday season watching their children opening presents and knowing that they themselves will have to go without, at least until Groundhog Day…
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