Illusionaire

Sitting in the “Alice in Wonderland Garden” at The Pied Cow sipping my Mexican mocha, I was sure I had fallen into an alternate universe because the clientele in attendance were quite different from their usual customers.
Punk-dyed hair. Patchwork pants. Dreads. Body jewelry. Anarchy T-shirts. June Cleaver dresses. Leather jackets. Cat’s eye glasses. Students in the corner debating politics. Artists discussing their work. A hipster couple obviously on their first date.
These are the people you usually see at the Pied Cow.
It must have been “Escape From the Suburbs” Night. Or Paris Hilton wannabe night. A table of giggling bleached blonde women (same shade!) took so many pictures there was a strobe light effect in the garden. Done up in pastels (it’s after Labor Day, fools!) they looked completely out of place for a Friday night in Belmont. It was like watching a train crash as they puzzled over the menus.
“What’s that drink?”
“Oh, just think of it as a frappuccino with more foam.”
“Ooooooh… you can get bongs here. Is this place really legal?”
“There’s beer! Wait a minute, they don’t have Coors Light listed.”
Their mirth and merriment echoed into all areas of the garden.
As we got up to pay our check, we encountered two girls who must have pored over every frame of The Simple Life to get their “slutwear” look. They were giggling and flouncing around like they owned the place.
I didn’t expect a stage show with my coffee, and I really hope this isn’t the way The Pied Cow is going. It’s always been a great place to converse and relax with a few friends, and people usually keep to themselves.