Encountering Jacques
Last night I had a very distinct urge to spend my dinner break at a seedy bar. My thought process was tightly wound and seizing up; a little lubrication and a carousing social atmosphere seemed just the thing. A while back I'd gotten out of the deleterious habit of writing in my journal at a bar, so it was kind of fun to revisit the experience this one time. I had to find a new bar, though, because my old favorite dive, a noisy sports bar with a happy hour that couldn't be beat, had gone out of business*. I felt like an outsider when I entered the dark confines of my new-chosen venue, until I was greeted warmly by a bartender who had worked at the sports bar a couple years before. I set myself up at the end of the bar where I had the benefit of light from the front window and open door. I ordered a martini and a pint of Guinness, an allotment for the night that would amply satisfy me. I hauled out my journal book and the latest National Geographic . I did a quick survey of...