Last night, after enjoying a cuban sandwich and a side of maduros at Gordo's, I decided to head on over to an old Tallahassee haunt, the Warehouse.
Now, back in the day, I didn't even consider "going out" until 10:00pm. So, when I busted through the door at 7:00pm, I immediately realized how old I am.
Due to my early arrival, I was literally the first customer in the bar. The two bartenders were watching the show "Scrubs" on TV. One of the bartenders got up and poured me a Guinness, then the three of us sat there and watched the rest of the episode.
We laughed together.
I imagine that this scene could happen at any bar, especially at 7:00pm, but somehow this felt special--it felt like something that could only happen in Tallahassee. The thing about a college town is how readily that people "make friends." This openness and casual acceptance is magic. (I don't know if I am willing magic onto the town, or if the magic still exists.)
Two more Guinness later, I had gotten to know the two bartenders--George and 'LaBamba'--and had talked music, talked politics, talked popular culture. Just when I hit my stride, a crowd came in, the bartenders got to work, and cigarette smoke filled the air. The moment was lost.
Age 31, ex-smoker, work-to-do-tomorrow Brian took his leave (but to avoid being too melodramatic, he took his leave with a smile).
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