When I left home shortly after graduating high school, going (North) west young man, I spent many of the best years of my early days of forced manhood in a piecemeal duplex that was filled with roaches, spiders and ghosts, but, hey, it was mine and I loved it.
Roughly one block up the street was Western Ave., still in its dilapidated heyday. I had a part-time job washing dishes at Sushi Neko, the Will Rogers still had killer shows and the non-7-11 convenience store was a wealth of drug paraphernalia and three-packs of discount pornography. But, best of all, it was a two-minute walk to VZD’s, where a lone wolf such as I could score a beer and a late-night burger as whatever local Red Dirt band was packing up their gear and heading home.
An absolute Oklahoma City staple of coolness past, VZD’s Restaurant & Bar, 4200 N Western Ave., has had its various historical moments of being someone’s own private Idaho, from failed dates—that was a long walk home alone—to successful concerts—remember that time Jonathan Richman played to like, 10 people?—this joint was part of a very vulnerable, venerable and volume-to-11 time in my life that, honestly, few places were ever able to compete with.
When I moved back to this area a few years ago, however, Western Ave. had changed and was changing even more; the streets were in the process of gaining French-inspired medians while stylized automotive repair shops and hipster fried chicken joints were the new de rigueur. As for VZD’s, it was closed and then opened and then closed and then…opened? Who knew anymore?
My city, or, at the very least, my street, was gone.