Block Reunion/ The Pit Restobar

On my birthday this year, I promised that I will not do anything that could possibly harm myself. I didn’t mean it in the grandest sense but merely wanted to keep away from even the most minimal forms of self-mutilation. So I neither did host a drinking spree nor went out partying on my 20^th birthday. Rather, my group mates in college and I went out and had dinner in one eat-all-you-can restaurant. Well, you might say that gluttony can be a form of self-mutilation but then again it’s my birthday so I guess that's an excuse.

Two weeks later, Reg organized “class reunion” for our freshmen block. Let’s just say that my promise joined the ranks of the forgotten and the postponed when I came face to face with this.

We went to The Pit, a restobar along the perimeter of UST. We had lunch, which later on, progressed to an unplanned inuman. We started drinking around 1pm (It was really too early. But Lady, another classmate, insisted that they even go there by 10am. Okaayyy).

 (L-R) Jayvee, Dazzle, Mikee, and me

(L-R) Mikee, Dazzle, Reg, and AC

The cheese sticks, which were true to their promise of being cheese sticks, was one of the saving grace of The Pit. Their French fries tasted like authentic, home-fried potatoes. 

The restobar itself had two floors, the first floor is primarily for customers who go for lunch or dinner while the second floor is for the drinkers and smokers. A videoke (one of my most hated things on earth) exists in the second floor. While I may not be totally happy with that, the drunks-turned-singers during our visit seemed to be. 

One of their servers, Ate Janet, was very nice and accommodating to our requests such as unlimited refill of the ice bucket. She’s like one of those servers who will not only take your order but even talk to you. As in talk to you in a way that you won’t feel irritated that she’s trying to pry over your life or something. She even offered to pray for us for the board exams. Now, where can you find a bar with someone like that?

At around 8:30pm, we packed up and left along with a classical drunk Reg, six buckets of beer, burnt up cigarette butts, and a broken promise.