This is how your table looks after a night at The Grafton with the mostly empty glasses and a water carafe that’s been filled and emptied at least four times. Not pictured are the hollows you left in the seats from sitting there for 6 straight hours.
You didn’t mean to stay that long. You only meant to stay for one drink. But then you sat in that tall booth with the dark wood and the Instagram worthy glass panels and you said “The Japanese make whiskey?” and that was the beginning of the end. 6 hours later you’ve sampled so much whiskey you can’t remember all of it (no judgment) and there are still so many varieties it would take months to get through them all. You had a burger with the most incredible onion rings you’ve ever put in your mouth and you watched the ebb and flow around you while the topics of conversation ranged from college memories and whether or not facebook is dead to the actual definition of ironic (because someone brought up Reality Bites) and why anyone would mix whiskey with anything but ice because it’s so good by itself. And then it was 2am. And it was the best night you’ve had out in a while so you get little warm feelings when you think about The Grafton.
Or maybe that was my night at The Grafton.