At The Pub

Mason

Taps was a pub not far from the docks that my old racing team and I used to frequent back in the day. It was in an old rundown apartment that had been converted into an office building, and the pub consumed the entire bottom level. It also had a set of stairs right in the middle of the place leading down into a basement that was riddled with high tables and chairs. The walls were the original brick from nearly a hundred years ago, and although it smelled a bit musky down there, it was a perfect place to sit and have a couple of beers.

It was open late on weekends, so when we showed up, we knew we still had a good few hours left before we’d have to clear out. We went straight downstairs because that’s where the dance floor was, and the girls found us a table while Benji, Rick, and I went to the bar and ordered drinks. I paid the tab and ordered everyone two shots of tequila along with some drinks packed with liquor sure to get us feeling good in no time. It was a cele