The problem with breaking new is that sometimes things change on the fly.
Marc Goldfine sent over an email:
There’s been a slight change of plans. We won’t be closing for renovations immediately as there are still some things to be finalized. For the time being the Dogpatch Saloon will continue to run relatively unchanged, possibly through the holidays. I’ll keep you posted.
Perhaps they went back into negotiations:
Howler: Will you keep the gallon jar of mysterious brown alcohol with a tiger penis floating in it?
Goldfine: Although it is delicious, the tiger penis whiskey belongs to Mike Apicelli. We should be so lucky that he’d leave it to us. We may have to find another boozy means of enhancing our virility.
I don’t think “delicious” is the word I would use. “Malicious,” maybe, but maybe that’s just my remembered headache*.
I ran into Mike on the street on Wednesday when I was foolishly defying my head cold and going in to my day job. He said that he is keeping the lights on for a bit, but that after a handful of serious medical issues — that he rattled off nonchalantly and with a twinkle in his eye — he was ready to retire.
* I dreamed that I was a tiger, and when I woke up, my pillow was gone!