The bar’s empty but they’re open.  I manage to get a beer and look around at the exotic décor.  It’s a mix of new age Asian and early dive.  I learn they have a city wide special that entails a PBR pounder and a shot of Maker’s Mark.  They also do a variation  that includes a can of Tecaté with a shot of tequilla.


It's that point when you have to make a decision and you don’t want a reputation for always erring on the side of caution.  This is the point where the evening many get hazy.  Will I even make it home alive.


A pounder of beer

chasing down high grade whiskey

the sun is fading fast


I talk with the bartender who reveals she is a lovely mix of Latina and Asian.  She’s wearing a Kurt Cobain T-shirt.  I ask her if she was even alive when Cobain played.  She was 5 years old when Cobain died.  Fair enough, Jim Morrison died 2 days before my 5 birthday.  We talk about music and the overworked air conditioner.  An old man crushing hard ends up tossing down 3 citywides before realizing the need to catch a train back home


Lovely Melita

giggling and pouring a shot

it’s love at first shot

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ashes_theartofburning's picture


The magic of bartenders,

serenading us through alcohol. 

A beautiful flavor,

savored upon the buds of our despair.  

"We are, Each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another." -Luciano De Crescenzo

georgeschaefer's picture

bartenders are often my best

bartenders are often my best friends and this one was beautiful to boot.