This one is on me…

Every town, village and or neighborhood in large cities has one. It’s the place where everyone knows your name. For that matter each generation has had it’s own type of gathering place and it’s been called different names.

In the 17th and 18th centuries they were called Inns. With the advent of electricity and running water a new name was needed and our favorite places became known as saloons. Now many decades later the Inn Keepers have added pool tables, dart games, and one arm bandits (for amusement purposes only) and have once again changed their names from cocktail lounges to taverns.

But over the years one thing has remained the same, the folks sitting on bar stools. There is always one person who breaks eardrums with a voice that can shatter dishes at ten paces. Then there is the tavern’s Edward R. Morrow who knows all, tells all. You want to know who’s doing what, where and when? Most of the time you don’t need to ask. The latest NEWS in given freely by the local Mr. Morrow almost before you walk through the door.

Then there is the mouse guy quietly sitting in the corner eyeing everyone wishing he were Robert Redford away from all of this. Another is fast asleep in a corner taking a 10 minute break. There are the dozens of prince and princesses that make their grand entrance walk through the swinging doors. The cast of life is endless.

Of course Friday and Saturday nights the places are packed and you need a number to get in. So, what’s the attraction with a smoke filled, ear splitting loud place? It’s a break from our little world of reality, where you try to put it to them before they can put it to you, let’s have another, bottoms up!
You look at your watch, it's 10:30 pm, how'd it get so Late.