My regular bar has what can only be called character. There is graffiti pretty much everywhere, and if the wait staff catches you trying to carve your name into a table, they are more likely to critique your technique than get angry. The bathrooms are...interesting to say the least. One of them, when the bar is packed on weekends, is predominantly used by law-breakers. This bathroom is affectionately called "the stoner's bathroom."
My old band's sticker is still on the door to the stoner's bathroom. This makes me feel more proud than it should. Amongst the various entries on the stoner bathroom's wall of graffiti) is some scribbling from an English friend. He went to my college, and even though he's went back to the Old Country, every few years, he will show up without warning at the bar. Usually, we skip over the "what in the hell are you doing here" part of the conversation and simply pick up whatever discussion of which we were in the midst when he last left this fair land several years prior.
This night, as I return to my table, a song from some friends' band comes on random play. I take a seat, sip my drink, write a few words, and raise my head to see the bartender riding past on a bicycle. We are, mind you, still indoors. Yet this still doesn't surprise me nearly as much as when I later hear her talking about white wine spritzers.
Do you still need to know why I love this place?