bartender

I asked a bartender once how he was doing, and he goes, “Man, I don’t know if I’m living longer or just waiting to die.”

A voluble man, Loftus draws on his colorful life experience — “I was a bartender for years, broke up bar fights,” he said — to coach with a playful rigor.

Young adults in hiking gear sipped beers beneath chandeliers shaped like wagon wheels as old timers with gray ponytails and cowboy hats chatted with a tattooed bartender.

“We played the jukebox while democracy fell,” Price sings, while the bartender yells that it’s last call and you’re still crying in your beer.

Jess, the bartender who makes mixing drinks look like art, made me the perfect Arnold Palmer, the first of many, and served up a bowl of water for Sydney.