Bar Story (1 of 2): Another Black Neighborhood Bar.

The other weekday on a Tuesday I had to be at school and then go to near downtown for a movie, so I brought my bike with me on the subway, and I tried to stop through a (black) neighborhood bar in a really really violent place.

It was like 6pm on a weekday and not crazy hot out, so I thought it was safe, and in face as I biked over, there were small (black) children playing on the sidewalks, and normal-looking (black) people out everywhere strolling, and when I passed by the bar, there was a table set up next to it, with a guy selling snow cones and bags of snack foods out of a plastic-wrapped cardboard tray like from CostCo.

The bar itself was pleasant, and the counter was painted red and had a plastic sparkly laminated edge like a bowling bar. I talked with the bartender some, and she told me about live blues they had on Mondays, and about some other bars with the same. Outside, I talked with the (older) (black) guy who ran the snowcone table, and I gave him my bullshit story about why I stopped through (I had heard about the bar from someone and stopped through to check it out). He talked up the blues, and pointed to an open window on the story above the bar, where the sounds of a radio were coming out. "That's the player's apartment," he was like, "And that's some of his movement." He talked more about the blues, which I kindly listened to, since they're not my thing but I'm finding out about places for a friend, and then finally he said something about how every other Sunday they have free soul food, and my face just lit up without my even thinking about it, and I was like, "Really!?!". At that, he laughed, and was like, "[My name], you're okay by me." When I left, he gave me a hug, as a friend, and said to come back any time.