Three Dollars Bought a Round, Not a Sermon
Three dollars in 2006 bought you a stiff well drink at the bar on 6th and Neches, poured by a guy who called you "chief" and never once asked about your sun sign or whether the vodka had been filtered through Himalayan quartz; the same corner now opens with a $7 entrance scan, $18 cocktails that arrive with biographies, and a server who waits for verbal confirmation that you've "felt seen by the garnish."
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