Thank God there are no windows here. Nobody wants to gaze out at the used car lots, the seedy loan shops and all the other reasons not to leave the city limits that threaten to beat down the Tilly’s rusted metal door and smother the joint’s soul. It’s worth a journey through the wasteland, though, if only for the chance to enjoy a drink made fast and well by a pretty, down-to-earth bartender who loves her job. And to lean back near the J-shaped bar above a tiny sunken stage, where music is cranked out by blues journeymen and 9-to-5 guys who play for tips, sharing the space with anyone who cares to dance before they continue their journey home.
