Just outside the door, there is a large dumpster. Inside, passed the sign that reads Lobby Closed for Construction, tables are dismantled and the walls are gutted, revealing their fiberglass innards, and a large area of the ceiling is exposed as well. A thick coat of dust and a vast array of broken pieces of tile and other shit litter the floor.
Throughout the catastrophic scene you’ll find hammers, crowbars, ladders, a wheel barrow, and other equipment. A tangled mess of wires reach out from the ground in one area like the thin tentacles of some hungry creature emerging from beneath the floor tiles. As for the front counter, it’s entirely gone, with the thick sheets of plastic hanging from the ceiling serving as the only barrier between the back of the restaraunt and the post-apocalyptic state of the dining room.
Yet even while the construction workers are still present, deafening us with the relentless cacophony of their destruction, people stroll inside, passing by the sign on the door, eager to know:
“Are you guys open inside?”
Chronicles of a Madman. 