Harry’s Happy Hour
Harry’s Happy Hour

“Ah, here’s Harry—the club’s favorite bartender. Isn’t he cute? I think he’s in his mid-twenties, although I’ve never asked. He’s sort of a legend around here. I’ll introduce you and, trust me, he’ll know your drink or that it’s your birthday or give you some secret advice that will just seem off the wall but will eventually turn out to be just what you needed to hear. I haven’t figured him out. Vance Evans insists he’s magic. All I know is, I count on him to help me handle over-served patrons, minor skirmishes, and the occasional dust-up at the club.”

Who’s Chatting with Harry?
Harry’s Happy Hour

Lynne Miller is the first to email Harry with a question. If you have questions for Harry don’t be shy. He’s happy to chat up anybody while he’s tending bar.

I have to say I love you and am dying to know more about you. So, when are you going to get your own book??

“Ah, Lynne. You sound like a Margarita girl.” Harry winks and leans across the bar toward Lynne, whispering, “I tend to dazzle the tequila drinkers in the crowd.” He pulls back and tosses a bar towel over his left shoulder, opens the top of a blender, and fills it with ice. “Trust me Ms. Miller, there’s not all that much to tell about me. I’m just your average bartender. I’m twenty-four, although I hear most people believe I’m older. I guess that comes with the territory, you know, listening to all these HCC members who’ve been around the block a few times. Believe me, I’ve learned plenty from paying attention to the Greatest Generation.”
Harry pulls out the coveted bottle of tequila and pours a good three count into the blender. “There’s so much going on in Henderson right now I’m keeping my options open,” he says as he squeezes limes into the container. “Got my eye on a couple of pretty girls.” He winks at Lynne as he adds simple syrup and a couple dashes of triple sec. “Like Miss …” Harry keeps talking but his voice cut off as he whirls the blender. “And you know …” the blender whirls again, “… is a knock out. Always have liked the looks of her.” He pours the frozen concoction into a salted Margarita glass and hands it to Lynne. “Sip it slow, now,” he tells her. “Happy Memorial Day Weekend.”

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