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Bay Haven

This time around the bars seem empty.  They seem to linger on out of habit.  Bars once packed with bullies, madmen and music are hollow and men gently jeer each other about golf.  It's quite vile really, where has the public death gone?  Was it recruited by meth and the alcoholics are now the toothless crazed squirmers we see at Starbucks?

A fundamental aim of this trip was to go to dive bars.  Maybe we are just in time.  There is some sort of dive bar funeral pyre in this country; every time one of you corny motherfuckers Netflix and chills, a dive bar rots a little into the earth.  A dive bar where an author should be sighing deeply, worrying they can't do this shit anymore.  What the fuck am I talking about.

The Bay Haven in Newport mocks all you Goddamned Instagram stars.  Long after the milenials are old and boring (tomorrow), the Bay Haven will provide.

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