Some of the grittiest places we’ve sought out have birthed the most entertaining stories. In the world of Pool-Halls and hole-in-the-wall bars/pubs, some deemed too dangerous to enter, we put our quarters down and wait.
We get stares of course. We aren’t from there hometowns, our clothes are different, and so forth. We head straight for the table and Jukebox, cases in hand.
One patron asks if we just came from a wedding, while another nervously jokes that we’re carrying weapons, but after time, they see that we really were just there for the table, at which point, someone comes up and shakes my hand, introducing themselves, often giving their “Pool Name”.
Thus starts the beginning of a friendship (of sorts), or at least a transaction.
The games go fast, the laughter and the drinks flow freely, stories are shared and then we leave as abruptly as we came, making sure to jot the details down in, “The Book”.
Mostly, we are just passing through. We always make a point to return, if not next week, at least by next year.
Seinfeld: Billiards a la KRAMER
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