Rosie's bar was the one destination everyone in town, no matter who they were or what they did, always went to. It wasn't high class or anything like that, but it wasn't sleazy or dirty either. It was cozy and welcoming. Had the kind of stereotypical small town charm you see in Hollywood pictures. Went there every Friday for drinks with the boys, James and Sam and all of them. Pretty sure they're dead now, and I haven't kept in contact anyway. But anyway, back to Rosie's Bar. It had this nice brick interior, plenty of space, soft lights, everything you'd expect. Rosie Filman owned it. She was sweet to everyone that came through. Any drink you wanted, local or not, she could get it for you. Any mood you walk in with, she'd try to help you. It got loud and crazy as hell some nights, and calm and relaxing on others. Really just depended. Lumberjacks and construction workers really raised holy hell there from what I saw, everyone else minded their business. If they weren't there, those were the calm nights. I miss that place. Out here in Texas, there's nothing like that, at least near me. God, I miss that bar. I'd kill for one more night, sitting there with my friends, drinking genuine Washington whisky, chatting with Rosie, and going home to my wife at the end. I miss those days.
- Trevor
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AuthorTrevor Magnil Archives
November 2021
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