And we're back! After R Kelly-ing you (don't worry, I'm not talking about pee) yesterday by leaving off with that sweet Trapped in the Closet-esque cliffhanger, I'm going to drop yet another totally original literary device on you -- the peripeteia!
Yep, e-friends, I'm switching it up -- having a change of heart, as it were. Whereas I metaphorically R Kelly'd (now I'm talking about pee) all over The Diner and Tryst yesterday in Chapter I of this epic, today I've got nothing bad to say about (nor do I intend to proverbially pee on) Woodley Park's Open City, the third in this triptych of restaurants owned by the one-and-the-same restaurant group.
Judging from some of the comments on yesterday's post, I can predict a bunch of people will probably disagree with me about my love for Open City; some may question how accurate my taste buds are able to, well, taste; some may question why I enjoy its welcoming, yet rather unoriginal interior; and still even more probably won't give a sh*t either way. I accept that. But let me tell you anyway...
Open City combines the breezy, laid-back interior of Tryst but lacks most of the annoying, computing clientele. Hooray! And the food is exponentially better than The Diner. The omelets are fluffy, the pancakes delicious, the bacon crispy, the fruit fresh and the waitstaff doesn't get pissed at you for ordering food or otherwise expecting them to simply do their jobs. It makes for a damn near-perfect brunch. It's like a pricier Denny's, but better. And, hot diggity, I love me some goddamn Denny's.
So, whoomp, there it is! The riddle is solved: I hate The Diner, I'm annoyed by Tryst and I heart Open City. You know what else I heart? A good old-fashioned Douche Off! Let's rumble!