Now this is an interesting-looking store. The windows are nearly blacked out with enormous stainless steel cutouts of drinking paraphernalia (martini glasses, cocktail shakers, beer bottles) all shiny and super-sized. I tried to take a picture for y'all, but it didn't really come out. The building is also ensconced in a copse of well-tended shrubs, giving the illusion that someone truly cares for this business. Who knows? Maybe someone does enjoy the place.
But the guy inside sure doesn't. I have never met a more miserable clerk. He was foul. When the bar code on my vodka wouldn't scan I thought he was going to have a stroke. I probed his demeanor with a question about credit versus debit but received only a grunt and some violent head movements. Maybe he was rabid.