Remember that one Friday in June when The Mister picked me up at work and swept me away from MommyWorld and took me downtown to be free? I DO. One of the things we did that night was go to a cigar bar. Well, martini-slash-cigar bar. We went for martinis within walking distance.
I had been there more than twenty years ago, but The Mister had never been. We had to pay a cover charge. The last time we paid a cover charge, I had a flat stomach and he had a head full of hair and we went to a club, to sweat to a dj, all glowsticky and strobed-out. That was a whole nother life, eh?
Anyway, because of the cover charge, I didn’t photograph the main door, but I got the actual entrance.
It’s exactly the same as I remember it. The major difference is that I am now more *achem* demographically suitable to this venue. And sitting. And enjoying speakeasy tunes at a reasonable volume.
The Mister and I sat on a leather loveseat and struggled to choose martinis. I mean, struggled. And then we chose and we drank and we talked and smiled and laughed. Five stars, would recommend. If you can handle the smoke.
We did not partake of the cigars. This time. There is always next time. Perhaps if we get there before midnight. They’re open til 3am. But see, next time, we could have
excessive numbers more than a few many, many martinis, maybe a few bourbons, maybe then we’ll make time to cigar, and that big dude who took our cover charge? He can carry us back to the hotel.
#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To view other interesting doors, click the link and see what others are posting today.