I’m back after a long lull given the hype of my last post, and I order a Guinness. $2.50, the bartender says. My friend orders a Jack and Coke. It’s $5, but ice is low, so the bartender knocks the price down to $4. We put money down, he doesn’t take it. Fine.
“Sure, after this round,” he replies. We’re watching Wheel of Fortune.
Bartender continues to rummage around, finds a bowl, finds pretzels, pours pretzels in bowl, places them in front of us, mutters about their dubious freshness, and we start wolfing them down.
Wheel of Fortune pauses, the runner arrives with ice and pretzels and cards, and I order another beer. They’re smallish, but served in a frozen mug. No complaints. “Can you guys help carry some tanks?” the bartender asks. Tanks?
“Sure.”
We head out the back door, meet Rose and her granddaughter, grab two CO2 tanks from their trunk, carry them into the bar, place them behind the counter, and return to our seats. No problem.
“How about a free drink … as thanks?” the bartender asks. Let’s pause for a second.
The bartender is Rose’s son, we gather. He’s newly awakened, though it’s nearly 6PM. He sings along to the Johnny Cash on the jukebox. His hair is long and brushed straight back and oily, and he walks hunched over and muttering. He has a thin mustache and sounds exactly like Bill Murry’s character in Caddyshack, so much so that we’re half ready to hear a story about the Dalai Lama. Gunga-la-gunga!
So he says, “How about a free drink … as thanks?”
“Of course!” we say. Another Jack and Coke arrives.
“I’ll refill that when you’re finished,” the bartender says to me.
There’s still a twenty and change on the bar in front of us as I finish my beer. As promised, it is refilled. We eat another bowl of pretzels, this time fresh ones. The bartender disappears.
The niece enters, asks if we need anything else, and we ask for our check. She arrives and tells us it’s $26. We pay, walk out, and immediately realize those drinks weren’t exactly free.
Return to Rose’s | Lincoln Park, Chicago
I’m back after a long lull given the hype of my last post, and I order a Guinness. $2.50, the bartender says. My friend orders a Jack and Coke. It’s $5, but ice is low, so the bartender knocks the price down to $4. We put money down, he doesn’t take it. Fine.
Bartender rummages around the bar. He needs cards. There’s a gent there (who I’m pretty sure was the guy that helped take out the trash last time) who’s making a run. “We need cards too,” says the bartender, “and ice … and pretzels.”
“Sure, after this round,” he replies. We’re watching Wheel of Fortune.
Bartender continues to rummage around, finds a bowl, finds pretzels, pours pretzels in bowl, places them in front of us, mutters about their dubious freshness, and we start wolfing them down.
Wheel of Fortune pauses, the runner arrives with ice and pretzels and cards, and I order another beer. They’re smallish, but served in a frozen mug. No complaints. “Can you guys help carry some tanks?” the bartender asks. Tanks?
“Sure.”
We head out the back door, meet Rose and her granddaughter, grab two CO2 tanks from their trunk, carry them into the bar, place them behind the counter, and return to our seats. No problem.
“How about a free drink … as thanks?” the bartender asks. Let’s pause for a second.
The bartender is Rose’s son, we gather. He’s newly awakened, though it’s nearly 6PM. He sings along to the Johnny Cash on the jukebox. His hair is long and brushed straight back and oily, and he walks hunched over and muttering. He has a thin mustache and sounds exactly like Bill Murry’s character in Caddyshack, so much so that we’re half ready to hear a story about the Dalai Lama. Gunga-la-gunga!
So he says, “How about a free drink … as thanks?”
“Of course!” we say. Another Jack and Coke arrives.
“I’ll refill that when you’re finished,” the bartender says to me.
There’s still a twenty and change on the bar in front of us as I finish my beer. As promised, it is refilled. We eat another bowl of pretzels, this time fresh ones. The bartender disappears.
The niece enters, asks if we need anything else, and we ask for our check. She arrives and tells us it’s $26. We pay, walk out, and immediately realize those drinks weren’t exactly free.