Everyone has, or at least should have, their local. The place where you know everyone, you know what you like, and you can become relatively drunk in front of your peers without severe judgement. Your local dive.
No one dive bar resembles another, but they hold the same sort of molecular chemistry. Cheap booze, perhaps a pool table, one or two televisions tuned to, say, the CHILLER network, invariably showing the B-est of horror flicks.
That’s how Cutty’s Notary Public — yes, the owner is a notary — is on weekday afternoons. Eight, perhaps 10 patrons, lazily sucking down PBR and Naragansette, buying each other Fernet or Van Gogh or cheap bourbon shots, shooting pool, and smoking cigarettes outside the front door (there’s just the one).