What can you say about #40? Good, bad, or stale beer - it's still the big four oh. Kinda special.
As we hummmed the Rocky theme and shadow-boxed as we walked up to the door, a tingle shot up our spines when we crossed the threshold.
We were anxious. A dense smoke assaulted us. It was crowded and loud. Willie Nelson on the Jukebox singing about shaving his hair and combing his face. We seated ourselves at the bar and ordered the 40 gun salute. 1 bourbon, 1 scotch, 1 beer. As we had done before, many times before, we headed towards the dart boards to continue the contest of wills. There are seven boards here - laid our like horse stalls. Our games went quick and that melancholic but satisfied feeling overwhelmed us.
Rather than overstay our stop at the Station, we slowly walked out into the night. We had come full circle. Nostalgic of our first night, we saluted onto the railroad tracks; in the distance a whistle blew.
A JOB WELL DONE.
Photograph: a dark, heavily contrasted image of a building front with a lit sign, foliage to the right.