When: 5:30, Friday
Older, dressed-up couple: “Can we have a booth? We came early.”
Maître’d: “Of course.”
Only two others were at the bar, including one woman, white hair pulled back and put together in a manner that can only be described as “smart.” Slim, pencil skirt, booties, she could’ve been 46 or 56. She didn’t eat her gratis tapa, a surprisingly good wedge of tortilla, or bread, which is, I suppose, how one maintains such straight, clean lines.
Was I carded? Nah
Age appropriate? That’s kind of the point.