I showed up at this establishment on the worst day of my life, looking for a quiet place to ponder and do my delinquent taxes. The waitstaff was so warm, intuitive, gentle and comforting. It felt like I was back in my mother’s womb (but without the smell of cigarettes). The vibe in there can only be described as ethereal. The lack of clocks make it so that time itself stands still in reverence. When I broke down in tears, my waitress/guardian angel, Paige (pictured below) wiped my tears away. She was beautiful, her eyes as blue as a summer day, but her kind soul stole the show. I ordered a root beer float and pickles (no meat) with extra mustard, it was gas, highly recommend. Then it happened. Struggling to breathe and running out of time, I accepted that here was as good a place as any for the end. Paige swooped in like a Crested Goshawk and performed the himelick (or however you spell it) manueaver (can’t spell that either). I had no idea you could even do that on a cat!! One of the best things about Taylor’s Maid Rites is the “come back with a warrant” vibe. Absolutely no one will tread on you while you’re wrapped in the embrace of those 4 walls. When all was said and done, we had laughed together, cried together, and realized that no matter which side of the counter you’re on, we’re all in this together. The only thing they lack is the SOFT chips a’hoy cookies. I almost challenged the pickle-hating manager to a fist fight over it but he would’ve kicked my [redacted] so I chickened out. And even though I was asked to “please for the love of god, never return”, I’ll always hold the memories we made together in my heart. TL;DR if anyone has a problem with the good people of Taylor’s maid rites, they have a problem with me. And I have nothing to lose.