Everyone is out today, and I have sought out the indoors. I completely understand getting out; the long cold of winter is finally shambling to the southern hemisphere. Holiday aside, it’s been warm for a few days in a row so opening up the doors makes sense.
Maybe that’s why I’ve ordered this ESB. It’s got a juicy quality to it, like ripe fruit, but with a bitter finish that makes it a nice sippin’ ale. Some of the other guys here are talking BBQ, and I have to admit, it seems like a really good idea and would go well with this beer. Even with my personal opposition to being outdoors, I am no fool. BBQ is good.
One reason I’m here so early is because I’ll have visitors this evening. However, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if I ended up back here in four hours to show out-of-towners the glory of this bar. It’s strange because a bar ought to be a bar, right?
Or rather: A good bar is a good bar. Shouldn’t matter where it is, the qualities of goodness should be universal. It matters though, in the ways that cities talk to us. Franchises work anywhere because of their monotony, but nobody hails a franchise as being an awesome place to hang out. No; you have to go to the spaces the city has set aside, the wink and nod that says; see, this is what I’m like, really.