Deep south, born and raised. I always preferred a rough bar. Sit in the back smoking a cigar or pipe, sipping bourbon, and watch the show.

They tore down my first home bar and put up a gas station, I mourn the loss. It was great: bikers shooting up in the bathroom, fights all the time, drug deals, meth head drama, bikers selling moonshine outside. Had a hooker OD and show up dead in the parking lot.

Met a former roommate and lover there, had to chase her out of my house with a shotgun. She and her boyfriend started smoking meth in my house. Last I heard she went back to Georgia and is doing better.

Sucks, sometimes, that I had to quit drinking.