Matthew B.
Yelp
Well, my journey to this establishment started with a young coworker asking a group of people out for a drink. I obliged out of curiosity to see how the younger part lives. Boy, I wasn't ready.
Upon entering the premise, Rihanna's "umbrella" sang through the speakers. It tickled my fancy. Took me to an earlier time. I was ready for the emotions of yesteryear. Until I heard a red faced young lady say, "no cap, this song slaps. My mom loves it." I knew I was in trouble.
When gazing around the room, I noticed the wonderful insecurity of college kids trying to fornicate hung in the air. It was like watching a mediocre amateur documentary youtube channel. I was into, but I wasn't like into it, into it. You know? Young love was dancing on the tongue of those whiskied lips.
Now I'm at the bar amongst my younger colleagues. As I stood around peering at my surroundings through 37 year old eyes, my baby face bartender came up and pleasantly asked what to drink. He used a lot of hand gestures, which I'm into, so that was tight. After taking the order and delivering the drinks, I heard a young man say "Aw naw, but yeah we for sure are slicin."
We slicing....
So In that sentence I immediately paid my bill because I was abruptly reminded I'm out of my element as the old dude. So I paid my bill and made my exit. Gracefully, with an old dude slide that dripped HARD.
As I left, I heard the same dude who said the "slicin" comment talking to a young woman at the front door. Pleasantly enough he said "yaw gur I mean this slaps, let's dip." She, with doe eyes, responded "Kay."
All in all, yeah. While the sun is up, for sure will go back. But after hours, leave it for the kids. Let them slice up and be kids. Let the pre-pubescent mustaches ring. Hey girl, you got pit hair, let it rip. Be that best version of you. Me, I'll take my old ass home and sip a Blanton.
Kisses.