9
The prospect of tracking down his scary friend put a damper on Glenn’s mood, so I left to tackle John Driscoll’s short list. The first club John had suggested was a bust, possibly literally. It was closed, and to be closed on a Thursday night, I figured something had to be busted, whether it was a water line or the entire establishment by law enforcement.
I hung out in the second club for over half an hour, nursing a too-sweet drink special at the bar. Should I have been relieved or insulted that no one except the frustrated bartender harassed me? It’s true that I was too old to be a contemporary of most of the patrons, still wide-eyed with recently won freedom from adult supervision. I took comfort in the fact that I wasn’t yet old enough (or, less comforting, wealthy enough) to be of
