Bars
Color me "out of touch." These are the five things people miss most from life before Coronabeer virus:
1. Having face-to-face interactions.
2. Celebrating big milestones with friends and family.
3. Hugging.
4. Having date nights.
5. Going to a bar with friends.
With a few tweaks, I could make this my list of five things I like about the Coronabeer virus:
1. Not having face-to-face interactions.
2. Not being obligated to celebrate big milestones with friends and family.
3. No hugging, hand-holding, or even handshaking.
4. Having a date night with my wife, only to have it interrupted by waves of table crashers.
5. Not applicable.
It's Number 5 that assures me I'm not out of touch. I miss going to bars: I miss going to bars with friends, I miss going to bars with Marie, I miss stopping into a quiet bar by myself for an hour of prayer.
Bars are the greatest thing since pubs.
If given the option of reading a book in a public library or a quiet bar, I'd choose the bar.
A bar seat with a good window view is surreal.
A bar with a jukebox is like a beer in a good glass. Not necessary but very nice.
A competent and pleasant bartender that comes to me only when my drink is almost finished is an artist at heart.
A competent and pleasant waitress that comes to me only when my drink is almost finished is a bartender at heart.
A bar with good music, sports on TV without volume, Keno, and a window view is Disneyland without the political agenda.
A well-ordered bar feeds the soul.
However:
A loud and raucous bar feeds the flesh.
A bar with a blaring TV is like drawing a penis on a fine painting.
Using a bar for business networking is like marrying a whore.
An overly-attentive bartender or waitress is the devil. They're supposed to be a means of grace, not its inhibitor.
Table crashers who overstay their welcome are looters.
Bars with drink maximums are like obsessive helicopter parents without the moderation.
