The Green Beans Are Money
Saturday. 1PM. Old Glory in Georgetown. Sitting at the bar ordering lunch. Trying to avoid the fries, I ask what my options are. The bartender, who's name is Flossie, I think, ends her littany of side dishes with: "The Green Beans are Money." Who uses the term "money" anymore. And to describe green beans?
I went with the mac and cheese side. It was okay.
While sitting there, this military guy comes up to the bar looking for his credit card from last night (St. Patty's Day). Flossie starts to rummage through a recipe box full of lost/left credit cards and licenses. She asks for ID and he pulls out his ID card. Yep, Army. And he couldn't have been more than 23 years old. I suspect it was a very good time last night if you were so drunk that you left your credit card at the bar. Ah, to be young and stupid.
I went with the mac and cheese side. It was okay.
While sitting there, this military guy comes up to the bar looking for his credit card from last night (St. Patty's Day). Flossie starts to rummage through a recipe box full of lost/left credit cards and licenses. She asks for ID and he pulls out his ID card. Yep, Army. And he couldn't have been more than 23 years old. I suspect it was a very good time last night if you were so drunk that you left your credit card at the bar. Ah, to be young and stupid.