Tonight I’m sleeping in a hotel with no guests. In 1970, when my dad was 25, he bought a bar on Caroline Street in Saratoga Springs for ten thousand dollars. He thought the world was his and this part of it was. The Tin & Lint is still open and it’s fairly nasty, but maintains some dive charm, I guess. There are photos of him all over the place & a plaque that marks the table where Don McLean wrote American Pie (allegedly). If I walk by the right person on the right day in this town, they’ll pull me aside to tell me how great my dad was. Larger than life and generous and crazy and the most important man to stumble into this place in decades. Blah blah blah.
King of the world
King of the world
King of the world
Tonight I’m sleeping in a hotel with no guests. In 1970, when my dad was 25, he bought a bar on Caroline Street in Saratoga Springs for ten thousand dollars. He thought the world was his and this part of it was. The Tin & Lint is still open and it’s fairly nasty, but maintains some dive charm, I guess. There are photos of him all over the place & a plaque that marks the table where Don McLean wrote American Pie (allegedly). If I walk by the right person on the right day in this town, they’ll pull me aside to tell me how great my dad was. Larger than life and generous and crazy and the most important man to stumble into this place in decades. Blah blah blah.