“COME AS YOU ARE,” says the dive bar. “I won’t mind, because at least you look better than Sheryl who lives 2nd bar stool to the right of the beer taps. You know Sheryl of the puckered cleavage and cackle seasoned with a mild windpipe obstruction?”
Whenever I move to a new place, I head straight for the dive bars. That’s where you get a feeling for the true heart of a city. The people you meet at dive bars are the real thing. I’ve lived in Austin, TX for a while now, and this city is rabid about its dive bars. I’m sure to piss off a few aficionados, but this is where I get my beer.