Late post:
Made it to some new (in cases also very old) Andersonville, with Rocket and Emma as our helpful local guides. At Simon’s, a Swedish dive bar opened in 1934 on Clark Street, I had a sip of Rocket’s warm glogg, swerved with a thin Swedish ginger snap. It tasted deceptively sweet and pleasant but I am told has enough alcohol to knock your socks off so I stuck with alcohol cider. We snagged a spot on the couch in the mini living room at the end of the bar, complete with a fake roaring fire in the brick fireplace and vintage photos of simon’s in days past. This is my second dive bar visit in a week (Carl’s in dsm as last week) and I am beginning to get the draw. The place was fairly quiet and seemed like a bunch of regulars at the counter, enjoying each other’s company and some booze.
