Days since the 2nd of June had been a constant staring contest with a queerly moustached man. His pointed brows twitch at my direction every time I look up at his tarpaulin, hinting—more of mortifying—me to come around his place and take a sip at the bloody cocktail sitting beneath his portrait. I thought, ‘Well of course, good sir, I shall find time to visit soon.’ With the address in mind, I scrammed off to our office.
Finding a suitable companion was just as difficult as securing the day to visit, what I imagined to be, the dimly lit abode of the twitchy moustached man. And it is always sorry to try novelties with a disinterested or incapable soul. Until my good friend “I” sought for a get-together lunch on June 18 to breathe from law school.
Armed with the street names and a vague imagination of the place, I and “I” took a good walk until we found ourselves at an intersection. Across stood a manor-like establishment, mostly made of wood and glass. I was unsure whether or not the place was already open until a security guard went to the door and ushered us in. Inside the double wooden door (which brings to mind vineyard manors) was a pair of glass doors where a courteous attendant rushed to greet us.
Long table for groups, with a view of the bar and the kitchen.
inkdependent 