It's
housed in a former Denny's and never closes. Waitresses often serve
the pipes with a side of buttery biscuits and eggs. Owner Ahmad
Marouf, 40, - you can call him Al - brings in his wife and their
four children, ages 4-14, for dinner.
"During
an Ultimate Frisbee tournament here once, we had some kids from
one of those Ivy League schools,'' said assistant manager Adam Brady.
"They couldn't believe there was a hookah bar in Statesboro.''
The
sign on the door says ''Please wait to be seated.'' But regulars
walk right in off South Main, past the rotating cake case and into
the cool, cave-like recesses of the bar. That's how comfortable
they feel in this place that's more cafe than bar, with its small
round tables, ashtrays, coffee pots, jukebox and couch.
There's
no booze, just caffeine, carcinogens and, as of this weekend, a
collegiate back-to-school crowd. Classes start Monday at Georgia
Southern.
Hookah
started in India and the Middle East, but, like Ahmad, is finding
a home here.
When
he first opened the place, he invited police so they could see nothing
illegal was going on. That was two years ago, before the hookah
trend caught fire nationally.
He
knew the question Statesboro might ask: "Is that a bong?''
Sort
of, but it's used for smoking a perfectly legal mixture of tobacco
and molasses, called shisha. Smokers light a piece of half-dollar
sized coal atop the pipe, slowly toasting the tobacco inside the
bowl.
The
tobacco comes in all kinds of flavors: apricot, melon, coffee with
a hint of vanilla.
Ahmad's
favorite is rose and orange. It reminds him of growing up in Kuwait,
before he left at 17 first for Canada, then for Penn State to study
civil engineering.
The
bar is peopled by folks from the Tom Waits song ''Eggs & Sausage.''
"There's
a rendezvous of strangers around the coffee urn tonight, all the
gypsy hacks, the insomniacs.''
College
students with lap tops, thankful for the diner's wireless connection.
Hands shaking with clattering coffee cups. Regulars sitting alone
with habits the waitresses know by heart.
Take
Rufus, a retiree, who always orders a Coke, even though it's a Pepsi
and says so on the glass. He was once was a city employee who was
honored for working the longest period without a day off. He likes
to hug his server.
Mr.
Joe shows up at 5 a.m. and watches the Weather Channel before ordering.
Mr.
Jimmy rolls his own cigarettes, takes an Equal and blue creamer
with his java.
Don't
forget the coffee drinker whom waitresses nicknamed ''35 Cents,''
the tip he always leaves.
And
Early, the pickup driver who stops in at least once a day for a
pizza burger and fries. It's a break between his two jobs, stocking
bread at Wal-Mart and sorting campus mail at GSU.
Make
sure to 86 the hookah on Early's order.
The
Statesboro native prefers cigarettes. Still, his habit is safe here.
"It's
just like home,'' Early said.
Without
Alice's caterpillar. |
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