A wonderfull sweet dive of a bar of which I have fond memories.
Broken mirror tiles.
Christmas lights left on year round; half of which are burned out.
Dark as a sub-basement during the brightest of days.
Odors of tobacco, stale beer, poor personal hygene, urine, rotting wood, and sometimes weed all intertwine into a swirl of which I can remember to this day.
Oh yes. The Back Bay Fens.
No, I never cruised there.
But I read many of the stories in the Gay Community News of the police entrapments there.
Enough said. Let it rest in piece under the seat of my bicycle from which it shines.