any place with a sign out front that says “no firearms” is a place worth going. after having been turned away a few months back due to capacity (or so they said), i was hellbent on getting in that big wooden door. this time, i made plans with partner-in-crime peachy lefevre to arrive promptly at opening hour on a newfound tradition of cocktail wednesday. trepidation set in as we jostled the door handle with no avail, but lucky for us, bartendress marley soon came to the rescue and apologized for having the music blasting inside and not hearing our pleas. we settled in as the pioneers that evening, and marley served up a perfect union of pimm’s and fernet as peachy and i caught up on three months’ worth of chatter. the drinks kept coming, and soon enough, so did the patrons. before long, we had struck up conversation with a fellow southern transplant who happens to roam in adjacent social circles. and if that’s not enough reason to trust in fate, he happened to be a member of seattle’s burlesque community and re-ignited my interest to enlist in miss indigo blue’s burlesque academy. i’ll be starting my studies in the summer, and as with all academic endeavours, i hope to reaffirm that “a is for amy”.