A bar story: Serbian restaurant, with jazz.

The other Monday night I was out and I popped into this Serbian restaurant/bar, which had almost no-one at tables but a pretty packed bar, and I went down towards the end to an open seat, and asked this gaunt-looking older (white) guy if I could sit down, and he shrugged and gestured to sit.

Then, another older (white) guy came out of the bathroom and sat down by his half-finished beer on the other side of me, and the 2 started to talk across me.

Oddly, later it was jazz night at the Serbian restaurants - traditional jazz, no Serbian players - and the 2 guys were 2 aging jazz musicians from the city.

After talking about their colonoscopies coming up, they began talking about old jazz bars in the city that had closed down.

"Remember that one place near [one street] and [another street]?", the one was like. "The place with the tree?"

"Oh yeah, that place with the tree," the other was like, "I can't remember the name of that place for the life of me, though."

After a story from one about his brother subbing in from him once in the late 60s, and another about some drummer with cirrhosis (sp.?) of the liver, the one was like, "Man, doesn't that all seem just like yesterday."

"Yes, it certainly does," the other was like.