On Friday, I ventured into the Fleetwood Diner, which I think I have aptly nicknamed The Dirty Diner,
for lunch. Its charm is much more obvious at 1 a.m. when you have a few drinks in you after the bar
and you are looking for breakfast. Still, it is a place whose clientele of characters ranges from
grimy-looking, hardened street people to punkers to students looking for cheap food.

Here's another photo, I took inside.


Condiments

And here's an outside photo from last winter:


The Fleetwood