About five years ago a Noodle Pho House opened up in the back of a random nondescript strip mall in my down town. There was no pomp and circumstance, no major ads, barely even a banner or flag outside to signal the new restaurant's existence into the world. The only reason that I even knew of it was because I was shopping for a bottle of Ibuprofen one lazy Sunday and saw the bright red awning. Being curious, I went inside to see what it was (I had yet to enjoy Pho during my life time) and was instantly greeted by a very happy and enthusiastic Korean man. This was the start of the downfall as I became addicted to the delicious, healthy, wholesome food.
When I still lived at college there weren't many good places to go eat if you wanted to get away from the school cafeteria. There was a 24/7 Hardee's right across the highway but really who wants to eat that more than once a month? I had it for lunch a week ago and I can still feel my heart beating slow. There used to be a fairly decent diner too about a block from my dorm but it was unhygenic to the extreme. The county Health Department forced them to close down so we were left with nothing. Being at a university for four years means that you need to be social, and one of the best ways to be social is over food. I've met some of my best friends at random tables during lunch, so once I discovered Megan's all my worries were taken away as my entire social circle started going there almost at a daily basis.
I loved the place. The owner knew us by heart and would automatically have our drinks ready by the time he saw our car pull into the usually deserted parking lot. He was happy, friendly, and honest-to-God enjoyed our every moment we were there. We would tip generously and spend hours just talking about random facets our of daily lives with each other. The owner started to tell us about his family and how they arrived in the United States. He used to be a truck driver until he wanted to open a business like his father did back in his home land. It got to the point that he wouldn't even charge us for our drinks since I'm pretty sure sometimes we kept him afloat. He (who we called "Mr. Megan" since we couldn't pronounce his real name) once said that without us he wouldn't have been able to stay in business -- I don't know how much of that was true but it was a sobering statement that made us go there even more.
About a year into their business he started hinting that his lead cook (also his uncle) was trying to get more money that he deserved because he was the only one that was cooking all the food. I never knew all the gritty details but I did notice that the food quality started to take a drastic dip. Mr. Megan also wasn't smiling as much in the final leg of the restaurant and the entire atmosphere of the place started to change. He wouldn't talk to us much anymore and he was also behind the cash register writing furiously on a note pad.
I went away for three weeks for the United Kingdom. When I came back the ownership had changed. A local family that ran a chain of grocery stores completely revamped the place while keeping the same name and menu. However, the prices jumped 50% and the quality of food became even worse. The service was nonexistent and they started to push things that I didn't care about. I only went once after it changed hands and never looked back. Whenever I head back home I always check to see if the Pho House still stands. It does. It still has the same name but I don't know how they stay in business.
During my senior year, which itself is now three years in the past, I saw Mr. Megan one more time. He was a janitor at the school cafeteria. It broke my heart. He was still smiling, but he didn't know who I was and I knew that things had turned so bad that he didn't get to continue running a quality-but-small business anymore.
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