You walk in on a Sunday night and there's this huge lineup and it's no wonder because the old woman behind the counter is moving at her own god damn pace thank you very much as she assembles to-go packs and shouts orders to the kitchen and no one is smiling but the soca music makes you subconsciously start doing these tiny little jumping twerks (still no smiles) as you wait for your giant vegetable dinner plate that could feed a small family and you immediately regret ordering that extra double and Red Stripe but you feel warm and satisfied as you step out into the chilly night.