Depending on the day of the week, there may be a crowd--groups of one or two sitting lonely in their space at the bar, not saying much to one another, or larger groups and families sitting around tables, with laughter and loud talk, and with platters of appetizers and desserts and plates of food and drinks and coffee and french fries grown cold scattered in front of them. Or there may be no crowd at all. Just a TV or an iPod's eclectic playlist playing over the loudspeakers.
Of course it all depends on the day of the week.
Regardless, though, one thing is certain since the ban on public smoking went into effect just a few short years ago: there is no more cigarette smoke in the air--no more ridiculous designation of "Smoking" and "Non-Smoking" areas in restaurants and in bars, as if the smoke from someone's burning cigarette had somehow been able to recognize, all along, the invisible barrier between the two halves of a room and to hover in the air in its rightful place.
He is glad that he listed on his profile the fact that he is unwilling to accept a smoker. Not these days anyway. He believes he even checked the box next to "Dealbreaker" about this very thing, but he's not quite sure. (And he wonders, too, if this somehow makes him a hypocrite, since every now and again he enjoys a petit cigar himself. What will happen when she finds this out? Will this in fact be a "Dealbreaker" for her? Is he a liar? Will she accept it, only after he's gargled with mouthwash, and brushed his teeth, and gargled once more for good measure? Is this the sort of thing she can find herself getting used to, long after dating him, and getting to know his jokes, and his sexual technique, and the way he...?)