You walk into Bailey’s or O’Neill’s or McCann’s. In the soft light, the sounds of ice clinking and glasses being put on the polished wood plank punctuate the oldies from the jukebox. Someone at the end of the bar is reading the newspaper, and a couple of young men are playing darts, their beers in dripping steins on the shelf beside them. You breathe in the smell of sawdust and memories as the bartender pulls a glass from behind the bar for your sacred regular drink. It’s the first draft beer of the day, or a vodka and grapefruit, or if you are nursing a hangover, a glass of white wine and soda and a Fernet Branca.
The New York Times
8 de enero