Gin Romeo


2 pm is an excellent time for drinking. At least, that's what I've told myself. And, of course, I was wrong.

As I stare at the pub's windows from across the street, I can see that it's too dark. Probably it's still closed. Carefully, I cross the street as safely as I can without checking traffic too conspicuously. I don't want to look like I lunatic, flicking my head left-to-right like some nervous squirrel.

Standing in front of the doors, I can read the club's hours. They don't open until 3. For a moment I wonder if I should wait. Is there a casual way to stand in front of a closed pub while you wait for it to open for the day? Probably not.

I can't stand here for much longer without looking like some kind of desperate wino or, even worse, some Yelp'ing tourist. I turn as naturally as possible and make my way towards the Walgreens a couple of blocks down. I can definitely kill an hour in the drug store.