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| - Three men ambling throughout W 25th street sick and tired of the shoulder to shoulder bar scene that they had so grown accustomed to, were open to adventure. Shadows of run of the mill centers of libation littered the streets, when a flicker of light caught their eye at the Black Pig. Daydreams of bacon wrapped beers flashed through their minds. Although hesitant to dive into an uncharted territory such as the "dark swine," they chimed in unison, "YOLO". Upon entering the premises, aromas of grilled muenster and unique India pale ales consumed their nostrils. "Why not here, Why not now?" they asked. Was this to be their "spot?" Walking in, the three wanderers viewed a concave bar with an open concept floor plan, crafty musings on the walls, and decently attractive waitresses adorned with provocative tattoos. This is where the experience took a turn for the worse. Being that it was a bar, the tallest member of the three man wolf pack decided to buy around. A fan craft beers himself - he knew exactly wanted: founders all day IPA. Not only was this choice beer not available on draft, warm cans were the only option. Not only that, but upon ordering, the "British" bartender, whom we'll call "Sir Walter Peckersmith," demanded to see all three of the middle aged patrons' ID's (and one passport). Dumbstruck by the inconvenience of removing their identification cards from the bowels of their coats, the three amigos were tremendously taken aback. Sir Walter Peckersmith rudely heckled the patrons about their national origins, proclaiming Great Britain and their red coats to be superior. In awe of the disrespect the foreigner whom resides within this beautiful country many call "The United States of America," the three men decided to close the tab after one round of beers. The only rationale the three men could amass for the bartender's behavior must have been the beating his country took in the revolutionary war as well as the second blow in the War of 1812. The general condescending tone Sir Walter Peckersmith decided to employ made this throne that belongs to swine a failure in the minds of the three. Vowing never to return to the dungeon that is the Black Swine, the three downed their beers like true gentlemen; more gentlemanly than Sir Walter Peckersmith himself.
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