The Only Thing They Left Untouched at the Hole in the Wall Was the Name
The Hole in the Wall on Guadalupe used to let you in for whatever crumpled bills were in your pocket, smelled like old cigarettes and fresh regret, and hosted any local band willing to haul gear up the rickety stairs; its new owners kept the sign and the address but installed a $12 pour minimum, a QR code for the setlist, and a staff that asks if you're "here for the experiential portion."
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