My Name is Johnnie

There are men out there that aim to deceive. They set out to gain from your misfortune. I can tell you, friend, Johnnie is not one of them. Johnnie's only wish is that you eat and drink well in his company. His patrons feel the same and wish you only the best.

I've never met a Johnnie I didn't like. My friend did me the favor of introducing me to Johnnie's Tavern Wednesday evening. It lies less than a mile west of Riverside Drive on Trabue Road. Truly a diamond in the rough. It was just one of those places that made you feel at home. Low ceilings, warm faces. The menu was displayed on a single dry-erase board. No need, the reason we were there was proudly displayed on their sign out front... "Home of the Super Burgers". We sat over a meal and beers and listened to jukebox music. We witnessed a drunk man cuss another man out for not keeping up with the jukebox music... noting that he's never been to a "f***ing bar that wouldn't play the jukebox," and after being told it was time for his cab, apologizing to those near to him for being disruptive. 

Upon leaving, I wanted to document the night. They thought I was from the paper. I wish you could make out the woman in door with her face pressed up against the glass. Subsequently, I got into a ten-minute conversation with another patron about a pizza place somewhere up near Marysville, but then again, maybe not near Marysville. After consulting another couple, he decided it wasn't that important, and anyways, his second cigarette had sufficiently been smoked. After a handshake, he let me know that Monday nights were when they really tied one on at Johnnie's. Such invitations shouldn't be passed up.

The other Johnnie I know deserves a separate post as they are equal in their love of good times.