End of The Littlest Bar....
The Littlest. Yes it was a shoebox. You occasionally got to sit on cases of Budweiser by the windows. But you never knew who you would run into. It was owned by a good friend's uncle Paddy Grace. Even his son, Desmond, bartended there the past year. Now some a-hole company needs to raze the area for some stupid condominium project. A project that should include returning the Littlest back. I spent my 21st birthday at the end of that bar discussing Boston politics with a thickly accented Irishman and putting back a lineup of birthday cocktails. Still the best place in town in my book. I think we may need to put that place on a national register somewhere. Or at least go down and get complete sideways one more time in it's small halls.

