When I moved to NYC, I fell in love with the Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden. I spent many a Sunday evening there with friends that first summer, drinking liters of Hoegaarden and Spaten, until security kicked us out.
Each week, one friend would become extremely defiant of security and refused to leave until he finished his beer. We would stand by the front gate, and watch as he sipped his beer, while a massive security guard stood over him.
Then that fall, the same friend and I, carried on the Sunday night tradition until mid-October. We held on until it was just he and I sitting at a picnic table under an awning, in 47 degree weather, with the rain pouring down around us. No one else was there, and we were so cold that the shivering made it almost impossible to get the beer glasses to our mouths without spilling beer all over the table.
We called it quits on our outdoor revelry that week.
I haven’t been to the Beer Garden in years, and all the glasses we stole from the place are now broken; but it was our Life Cafe. Instead of coffee, we drank beer, philosophized, and made plans to take on the world.