My local bar

As we were passing by a bar near where I live in the Mission district, Holly asked me which was (with quotations) “your local bar”. In a flash, I thought back about all the bars I had been in that I liked… bars in NYC, Hackettstown, Boston… all the interesting eateries, brew-pubs and homey coffee shops. I couldn’t think of a single place that was “my” place.

We walked along, looking for something to do on Saturday night in the Mission. Or if we only found some cool night air, we’d be happy too. There was a little artist gallery/nightlife spot I had randomly found a couple weeks ago while coming back from the post office so we were walking in that direction. We found the place.

As we approached, we worried that the place wasn’t open; the lights were out… or at least they were really dim. A sign at the front door directed us around to the side.

As we stepped inside, I had this comfortable feeling… the patrons looked at ease and happy, the ambient sounds were soothing, there was a pitcher of mohito on the bar and the band was gearing up for their second set. I knew immediately that -this- was -my- local bar.

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