Killed Ourselves a Bar

Well, my writer's group has apparently slain another bar. Actually, if you count our previous incarnation as a mere gathering of drunks, this is the second time we've slain the same bar.

As said mere gathering of rummies, we were present for the death of the Cedar River Brewing Company, in Renton. Fellow Alliterate Frabjous Dave and myself got ourselves kicked out of that bar (I know, you're shocked by this news) for the crime of changing tables. The place went taps-up no less than a month later.

Then, for the longest time, the Allits West Coast met at the Big Time Pizza in Bellevue, a respectable joint with good food. Then one evening we arrived to find the doors closed, the lights off, and the kitchen partially disassembled in the main room. I'm on a mailing list for it ever comes back, the the odds are not good.

So we drifted for a bit, and came to rest back at the location of the old Cedar, under new management (It was also called the Giant's Causeway for a while, but I'm not sure if we were responsible for THAT one going away). Anyway, the new/old bar was a bit empty on a Monday Night, but that's one of the good things a writer's group looks for. But last night we arrived to find the doors padlocked from the outside and a pile of free giveaways that look like no one has been their for a week.

We thought it might be closed for the holiday, but we had never heard of a bar being closed on Columbus Day before, so with tears in our eyes, we heading down the street to the Whistlestop (which was another old WotC bar, but one that has since relocated - so we hadn't killed it, only winged it).

Now mind you, your typical local bar is not going to grow fat on the Alliterates business. We're a once-a-month group of insufficient alcoholics that order dinner with our booze and ask for separate checks. And our preference for quiet bars and restaurants sort of draws up to the weak and struggling.

But I'm a bit jealous of our midwestern brethren, who have been in the same general location for more than a decade, at the corner table in the bar (though come to think of it, we killed a full restaurant out there - showed up one evening to discover that the owner had absconded with the receipts and left everyone (staff, investors and customers) in the lurch).

Maybe it IS something about writers' groups.

More later.