I had just gotten my degree in Global Positioning Systems, and moved to Tampa, FL from my hometown of Waco, TX. I was offered a job working in the city planner's office making a sizable chunk of money for someone straight out of technical college. I was new in town and had no real idea where or what kind of night life there was in Tampa, so I set out to find out.
I dressed up in a blue button down shirt, and a loose pair of jeans, walked out to the curb in front of my building and hailed a cab. I had no idea where to start so I leaned toward the cabdriver and asked him to take me to the nearest bar. I hoped that the bar was close by, I needed a place to get out and drink and be able to stumble home from. The last thing I needed was to call a cab every time I needed a shot of the sauce.
About five minutes later, the cab pulled to a stop, "Good, its close," I thought as I handed the money and large tip to the cabbie and thanked him for his services. I turned and got my first good look at my new home away from home. A large blue and green neon sign hung over the door.
"The Wet Spot," I thought to myself, "that's a new one," as I grabbed hold of the doorknob and pulled the door open. Loud music poured out through the now open doorway and I knew immediately that I was gonna like this place. I pulled a pack off Marlboro Reds from my hip pocket and sauntered up to the corner of the bar. I sat down on a barstool, ordered a draw of Budweiser and began to take survey of my surroundings. This was definitely not the highest class place, but that's the kind of place I like. The conversation is always far more interesting in a dive. The Wet Spot was fairly small but still managed to house an electronic dart board, and a pair of pool tables. The only decor on the walls were beer signs of varying age both cardboard and neon. I was the only person in the bar with the exception of the bartender, which I found both disquieting and encouraging at the same time. I like an uncrowded which this definitely appeared, but I hate an empty one.
The bartender approached me again and sat down my pint. I handed him a five, dropped the change in the tip jar and extended my hand.
"Hi, I'm Jon." I said when the bartenders huge paw wrapped around mine.
"Howyadoon?" He said with an thick Irish brogue, a huge smile lighting up his bearded face, "I'm Chuck, I can tell your not from around here either, where ya from?"
