The fortunate, and unfortunate, thing about this bar is that it is dangerously close to our house. It's always on the way home from wherever we have been earlier in the night, be it a late night at work or hanging out at our favorite Westheimer boozeterias. Too many nights we find ourselves walking to the taco stand down the street, mumbling something to the person inside, and waking up with like ten containers of green sauce in our car.
The night we took this picture, it seemed that every indie band, journalist, and scene personality in Houston was in attendance out here, double-fisting Lone Stars and smoking cigarettes around the bar's backyard firepit. Their jukebox is excellent, feeding our lust for Iggy Pop, The Clash and...Taylor Swift. Whoever put that in the there is the damned devil.
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