411
Gallatin Avenue, Nashville, TN 37206
As we walked through the doors a storm started. A bloke at
the bar asked if we were sheltering from the storm or actually there to have a
beer. And I was unsure if he was trying to quote Bob Dylan or if he didn’t like
our type. The room was dim and a bluegrass band, drowned out by the rain on the
tin roof, strummed ditties from another time. The old-duck at the bar served us
beer in jam jars and cooked our burgers at the same time. The toilet wouldn’t
flush and a foul smelling sticky substance dripped from the roof. When we sat
at our table a river started flowing at our feet – the storm was encroaching
and I wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole establishment drifted away around
us. Ice cold beer never drank so good.
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