Wallside Cafe

A local haunt with a bit of a more slow paced crowd, drawing raspy tongued old sailors, secretaries and freelance pilots, who laugh loudly and constrictedly over diner esque tables, polished so smoothly you can quite see your face in them. The owner of the bar is a little eccentric, thus, obscure music booms from the jukebox in the corner and orders zoom back and forth via a kind of sliding clothesline wire connected on the ceiling, a hilarious parody of the St. Lucent Express bullet train. The pancake puffs are really really really good.