Falcon

When I move, you move.

This town has a facade of sleepy, or quaint. It's called a Village in the "hip" sense of the word. And so it was that Friday night had me stepping through the glass and arched front door of a home built in 1925. It's now a bar where every wall is painted the color of rich and warm red velvet, and black and white photographs don't hang, they're set into the wall and are lit from ethereal light behind.

The 80 year old hardwood floors vibrate under the influence of a state of the art sound system. Vibrations transfer to the barstools, and to me, perched on the edge. Up through the bar, vibrations pump my Amstel. If a place can have a vibe, this one's got it.

I'm looking forward to going back.