Suburban bars get such a bad rap. Even if you could throw the same place down somewhere in Boston and it would seem right at home, so long as you're outbound it's like it doesn't count.
Subway: Where are you guys?
Me: We're nowhere. We're at Desmonds.
Subway: Oh, okay.
Me: This was the perfect night to not really go out.
Steve: Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.
Me: Poor Desmonds. I mean, there's nothing wrong with this place.
Steve: Well, there are some drunk girls over there getting thrown out by the bartender. They look nineteen.
Me: Okay, let's go.