Yes, it’s the building that looks like a barn. Go through the rickety screen door closest to the parking lot. Sit at the long, rectangular bar. Say hello to your neighbor—a laid-back country-folk kind of a guy who’s just ambled across the worn wood floor to sit next to you. Basking in the light of neon beer signs, the 25-cent pool table looks lonely, but open to suggestions. On every table, pints of cheap beer accompany an equal number of cheeseburgers, and from behind the bar, you can hear the sizzling of patties—the crackle of grease serving as a delectable siren calling out: Tarry just a little longer.
