I Can't Believe It Hasn't Been Done

Okay, so I'd really only want to visit it, not own it, but I can completely picture it. A pub in some trendy arts district called "Time Out" where moonshine in Civil War flasks is served alongside a Genghis Khan-worthy concoction in a gold stemmed Mongolian goblet. Where patrons could match their mood to the period in history saturating alternate nooks and come away with a different experience each time. The focal point would be the bar, the epicenter tying it all together with some kind of Timeline-esque, hollographic glass construction where drinks were served on a raised hydraulic platform instead of sloshed out from the meaty hand of a bartender. I'd SO go there.


Incidently, thanks to the Smart Bitches, my new favorite reward for hitting my daily page count is to flood Fabio with the names and phone numbers of those who need the special kind of message that can only come from the buttery Italian. I'm sure their fondness for me only grows when Fabio interrupts a board meeting, calls them by name to cite Elizabeth Barrett Browning and jokes about what he'd like to do on a bear skin rug. Could technology of the future get any better?

"I can't believe it's time to write."

I know, I know. I'm going...

Name a drink for my time travel pub.
Oh, and let me know how the calls go. You know you want to send them.