Your local watering hole. Your home away from home.
Where the bartender knows your drink and everyone buys a round. The fellowship. The random conversations and connections. Where knowledge, insight, and perspective are always on tap.
All is well (unless you aim for the top shelf)…until the clock strikes midnight and it’s closing time…permanently.
Damn. The memories come rushing back like a pour without a bottle pourer. The good times and laughter, The not-so-good times and tears. The free advice from the wise barkeep. You wonder “what the hell am I going to do now.”
You go in for one last one, close your tab, and you move on. Last call.
Then one day, you wander into another place. You find a barstool that fits just right. Tell the garçon your drink of choice and just like that…new memories are tapped. The circle of watering holes.
Cheers!
