Place of Lasts

I’ve fond memories of good people, pizza, and beer since first coming to Piecora’s in 1990. It was the last place I could really taste food. I lost my sense of smell shortly after eating lunch there in 1997, by falling off a skateboard and hitting my head somewhere downtown [my inability to skateboard, not Piecora’s, was to blame]. In 2005, we went there on the eve of the indoor smoking ban to mourn a lost way dining and enjoy one last cigarette at the table. Had I known last night was the real last night, I would’ve been there.

[Submitted via our Stories page…]

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