It was just another muggy, mid-week summer’s day and the street outside the bar was quiet. Inside it was too early for Vinny’s usual crowd. They were still at their desk jobs or out on the shop floor, sweating it out until quitting time when they would faithfully make their daily pilgrimage for happy hour to quench their thirst for company and something cold.
All bets are off once you sit down at the bar, otherwise known as the place where all good intentions are (temporarily?) abandoned. The taps are lined up in front of you, each handle designed to convince you it’s the right choice for you. Laura, your favorite bartender, is already reaching for a pint glass….