These wonderful neighborhood bars are few and far between. Each time I pass Miss Kitty's the timing is off. Finally on Easter Sunday around sunset the place was hopping as I was heading home. It was old music, disco lights and fine clothes. I was terribly under dressed but was accepted directly none the less. It was old Nashville as it used to be. Nostalgic and homey and I wish I could have bellied up to the bar for a long night of people watching.
We are loosing out by letting things like this quaint joint disappear. Years of lovin'. The floor was worn through in the dance path and the wood at the bar was rubbed smooth. Unique, colorful and raw. Far from the pristine, sanitized predictable places we are having to succumb to now. Give me real any day even if I don't bend an elbow anymore.
