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“On the Catastrophic First Night of Three of the Westville Pub’s Closing”

Damn, my favorite bar here in West Asheville is closed for three nights, and I’m sure the eventual results are going to be glorious: they’re building some sort of annexation on the front, either expanding the stage area or changing the outdoor dining experience, but boy did it make for a barrel-scraping night last night. It got off to a bad start right away when I was biking by the Pub, desultorily making my way at a glacial pace toward some place called “Altamont,” where apparently the Rolling Stones hired the Hell’s Angels to be security guards at a show, whereupon they proceeded to slay half a dozen audience members. In all seriousness, Altamont has always looked like a cool brewery, but I mean, who needs it? All this traveling a mile and a fourth from my home here on Westwood Pl, by the WALK, which I’ll get to later, instead of an easy half-mile to my sacred watering hole of choice, the Westville Pub, strictly for the birds. Eventually I make my way over to the psychedelic-colored horizon that is the final, Westernmost part of Haywood, and I dunno what I’m doing in this hood-y, the sun is always in myyyy eyes.

I walk in, and to the place’s credit, every guy there, including me, has a beard. MF Doom once said, “The man wit’ no beard is more weirder than a she-male.” The problem is, it’s just a little dead, it’s a Tuesday night. Sure, it would have been a Tuesday night in the Westville Pub, too, but it would have been a WESTVILLE PUB TUESDAY NIGHT, the kind where there’s 12 members of a softball team there getting soused, one compliments my Wu-Tang tank top, and we get into an hour an a half discussion ostensibly pertaining to every noticeable thing under the sun, including his habit of “miss(ing) my bed,” landing in front of it, being so drunk from watching his Florida State Seminoles capture the NCAA championship, to telling me “BUY A TICKET TO CHRISTMAS JAM” and then answering my interrogation, in light of the fact that this event lasts from 7 in the evening to two a.m., of “Do you light up at that thing?” with “Oh, there were a bunch of drugs going around.”

Oh yeah, I never got to the WALK. There’s probably a reason for that. Come back, Westville Pub-by, to us now.

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