Thanks to an acute febrile bout of the grippe, I ventured into this establishment expecting to be treated as befits a man of my stature and elegant demeanor. I sat down on a late Monday afternoon and mopped my place at the bar with a 'wet nap' brand moist towelette reluctantly provided for by the barkeep.
Doc was not available for my special requests related to a peanut allergy so I deferred and spoke with my server, an undecorous woman whom I shall not name. She offered me a selection of beers and a menu that had been handled by others. I accepted, preferring a wet-napped bottle of ale. I donned my spectacles and perused the menu.
Before I regale you with my adventures with order placement, let me tell you about the people around me. There was a young man seated alone, loudish and more inclined to converse than the barkeep who humored him. There was also a dark-haired woman ogling two older ladies who seemed to be engaged in a healthy but dare I say socially inappropriate congress near the women's toilet/restroom. I longed to offer each a moist towelette to - how can I say this?- to cleanse themselves of the tobacco-tinged bodily fluids that were being shared.
I ordered a modest sandwich and asked that it be laid out upon my plate so that I might assemble it myself. They obliged. I did not eat nor taste the sandwich. I will not go into the whys and wherefores. I did taste the beer and it was, for lack of better phrasing, beerish. The fried potatoes, passable with salt.
Looking back on the entire visit, I cannot help but to wonder if this was in fact Doc's or has it changed its name? I know only that I did visit and did not put anything into my mouth beside the previously mentioned frenched fries and some of the beer. I bathed as soon as I got home. I'm sorry.