I am constantly asked by people who have made the trek over to my bar, which, perched on a forlorn industrial block is clearly a destination-only trip, where they should go next. I'll ask them what they're looking for and they can never define it. "I don't know, something happening, someplace where something's going on." I politely abstain from pointing out that, for self-sufficiently interesting people, something'sgoing on literally everywhere, and, conversely, that spoiled, unthinking, and drifting ameobalike in perpetually jaded urban malcontent, they wouldn't really consider there to be something "going on" if Queen Elizabeth's jubilee were slated in the bar that night. Instead I tell them, almost truthfully, that I don't really go out to other bars that terribly much. Busman's holiday and all.
--from Toby Cecchini
, the best book I've ever read about owning a bar.