Village Inn

This neighborhood tavern is populated by people from the slobbic states… jeans, sweatshirts, and not a pretense in the world. If you start a conversation or need help choosing a beer, everybody in the place will probably join in. There seem to be some real characters here, but they have in common a Buddha-​like glow derived from a mix of familiar surroundings and just the right amount of alcohol. Even though Buddha maybe didn’t drink.
To me, these are all good things.
It’s worth visiting here even if you have laryngitis, because there are still some excellent eaves to be dropped:
A bearded man coughs.
«Are you alright?»
«I’ve never been alright. Never will be.»
«2002? That was sixty pounds ago!»
Then there was a lengthy discussion about ordering a hamburger with pickles and onions, and the outrage of getting cheese on the burger even though that wasn’t mentioned.
It goes on and on, day in and day out at the Village Inn.