The Tavern at 922 West 12th Still Runs on Cash and Muscle Memory
Pushed through the heavy door on a sticky Tuesday to find Frank sliding over a $5.25 Shiner without being asked, while a table of remote workers in expensive sneakers debated whether the WiFi password might be "tavern1923"; the fryer oil hasn't changed since the Clinton administration, the jukebox still eats actual quarters, and the new condos across Lamar already cast long shadows over the back patio at 4 p.m.
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