"Holy shit! Holy shit!" I exclaimed, pointing at an antique hanging on the wall. It was a pay phone. A working pay phone!

"I've already made five drug deals!" joked Marke B. We all stood in awe of the relic. Some of us lifted the receiver to hear the dial tone. Suddenly I was catapulted back to 1980.

From there I mingled my little heart out, exchanging business cards and barnstorming other people's conversations. And to think that most of my bar experiences are spent by myself, listening in on some old coot's philosophy on the best Karen Black film. I decided that from there on out I would mix it up a bit more. Get it? Mix it up? Ha! I got a million of 'em.

"Next week? You and me? Mix it up?" I said to Allie. She agreed. I was happy.

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