This has nothing to do with law school, but then I often veer off the path on this blog. In my neighborhood is a local dive bar which I wil call the Zoo. Not because it’s like a zoo, but because that is its name.
Vince owns the place, and he can often be found there behind the bar, entertaining, drinking and yukking it up with the usuals. There is a great sense of neighborliness to be found. Most know each other, and most are regulars.
Last night, Kathy was the bartender. She is 47 years old, but did not look it. She’s trying to quit smoking, been smoking since she was 14, and had had only 5 or so this week. Since she works Thursday and Sunday nights, and Friday and Saturday days, I’m guessing it’s easier to keep from smoking when you aren’t tending bar. When she took a box of empties out, she just vaulted the bar, rather than go the long way around.
Someone had a birthday, and another patron had made a cheesecake for him that melted in my mouth. Everyone at the bar got a piece.
It's the kind of place that should be the setting for a weekly TV series, but that most people wouldn't go to in real life. It's just a little too real, I think. And maybe a bit grimy.
I am attracted to this kind of place specifically because the veneer is either worn off or nearly so. They are not the pretty people, although some still think so after a drink or two.
The drinks are strong, and cheap, and for those who find their solace in a bottle, it's a womb of sorts, and quite possibly the path to something less than good. Still, it's a place where pretence is wasted and you can walk in as you are. It seems that often we have to hit bottom before we no longer feel the need to put on airs and judge our neighbor.
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