There is a flaw in the fabric of my life. There is a bar only 4 doors down the street from me but it is almost impossible for me to go there. You'd think because my wife was hassling me, or because I work so much I don't have time, or because I'd been tossed out so many times for fightin' and cursin' that I couldn't go back. But it's none of those. The reason I can't go there is because in all the little ways that matter to me, this bar sucks.

I have a few criteria for a good bar, and they're not at all difficult to achieve. Good jukebox (or at least good music), a few delicious beers on tap, a nice outdoor patio, a solid discount at happy hour and the space to settle into the bar and read the paper or have a meal. Doesn't have to have all of them, but its gotta represent.

This bar has none of these. No IPA on tap. No patio at all. The music always tuned to some insanely shitty Top 40 cable music channel. Only a mere $1 off at happy hour on already exorbitantly priced beers. And there is simply no way to read the paper there in peace. Grown men were shouting at each other--shouting--instead of having a conversation at normal speaking volume. The music wasn't loud. They weren't arguing with one another. It was just that their default volume for talking was EXTREMELY LOUD. Now I'm a loud guy, I know that, and I've had many a loud night in a bar. But it's always the same in this place. Shitty music, loud fools, and bad beer on tap.

They have amazing wings, I'll give them that. The chowder is delicious, too. It's only 4 doors away so no doubt I'll keep going in there. But it'll never be my local. It'll never be my bar, my place to disengage, kick back, have a pint, read the paper, chat with some new friends and walk out looking forward to going back. My local is clear across the country and in my heart I will always be true to the greatest bar of all time, the bar called Lucky 13.

No other bar compares, not even the one 20 steps away.