Senegal Fast Food

You are at the same pub with your friend where the DJ played a Dylan number last year. You are a bit late, so it’s not the cleaner, pre-first smoking customer air that greets you. Instead it’s the smell of acrid smoke and deep fried stuff and the woody smell of alcohol. You sit near the door for a while and get a fleeting whiff of a new perfume/cologne from the newest entrant before it gets swallowed by the resident pub smell. Later you move inside to a more comfortable booth. You are joined by some new friends whose names you barely catch but beer-laden conversations seldom have a need for trivial things such as names. The DJ, inspired by the Cranberry juice perhaps, has been playing some rather decent music tonight. From his glass booth, he catches your eye, and points to the speaker, as if saying, ‘this song is for you’. Money well spent on the juice, you conclude.