This story begins like the Charles Dickens novel, David Copperfield, "I am born," and though we may not all get along we will go along. In our adventures through the bars of New York City, we will storm or whimper. Leaving only our written word in the wake.
We four bloggers have ban together as a result of an absence, where there really was no reason to be. Why shouldn't we all be able to migrate to the same bar? Why can't there be an agreement, this place has the best women, this place has the best men, this place has the best martini, this place has the best chance to get laid?
However I put, this is how I put it and let me be the man who ventures face first deep into that field, with that flag, hoping to not be shot, but when I finally am, let me scrap my way, those last few yards as the dirt under my nails increases and the flag in my hand deepens into the soul...
I am Barfly and we are New York.
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