Oh Caribou, I turn to you like a long lost friend
You make me miss living on Johnson once again
I'd get smashed on the Twenty I had to borrow
so I could have conversations that I'd forget about tomorrow.............
{insert sound of a needle
scratching off a record}
The 'bou? It don't need no stinkin' poetry.
Yes, this is a little hallway of a bar. It really sucks if you are not an old man drinking your pension away during the day or one of the 12 neighborhood regulars that hang out compulsively night after night (that cast rotates yearly, as people move in and out of the neighborhood every year. To claim it for you and your neighborhood crew, plop yer ass on a stool August 15th and don't move it again for at least two weeks. that'll learn 'em.)
The drinks aren't as cheap as they should be. The bartenders aren't as nice as they should be. The bar isn't as big as it should be.
It's not a place to take your date.
Or your softball victory party.
It's not a place for to turn 21.
It's not a place for you and your bros to drop yer roofies.
It's not a place for your unicorn themed dance party.
No-
Its just a place to sit and drink Old Mils, and maybe do a little laundry. And I love it.