3 bars (1 of 3): Nice doorman.

So the other weekend I went to hit up some bars before meeting up with a friend.

There was this packed-out hipster bar with a tin ceiling and nice woodwork I went into, and right away when I got inside and was trying to figure out how to get to the bar, the doorman was nice and was like, "So what was the last book you read?"

I went to get a beer - a couple women shared at my "I [HEART] [name of the I'm in] SEX WORKERS" shirt, then caught my eye - and then came back to talk to the guy, and he said that not everyone has a coat that can carry books so easily (I had a novel sticking out of my lefthand pocket).

"I'm a reader too," he was like, and we talked books for a while, since the bar was so packed out - 3 linked birthday parties were going on! - that that was far and away the best place to stand.

Somehow, we got on the subject of folklore and ghosts, and he said that the guy who founded the bar was a WWII veteran who had some issues and lived upstairs, since that's what all bar owners in the neighborhood did in the day. One year, the guy shot himself, and ever since then people claim that drinks sitting on the bar will just fall off and shatter for no reason, and ghost tour busses go by the bar every so often and point them out.

"Personally," he was like, "I think the bars are slightly off-level, and you get a wet bar, a full glass can easily slide off. But, whatever."