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Welcome to my Bar

It's called "Dropped pin". It's impossible to seek out, but easy to accidentally end up at.

Each night brings a different crowd with no discernible connection. There are rumors it's a chain as it's seemingly everywhere, but it's unclear if the warehouse bar is owned by the same people as the open field. ID is checked at the door, not for age but for ensuring you're an organ donor.

Welcome to my Coffee Shop

It caters to the queers so all coffee is iced. This is an unstated rule that surprises those trying to order normal lattes. Also not mentioned is that only actual-dairy-milk is charged extra. Not because of any grand reason, but because oat milk simply tastes better.

As a rite of initiation, first-timers will have their name purposefully grotesquely mispronounced by the barista. If they seem annoyed by this, then they are given the credentials for the alternate WiFi network that is intentionally slow and unreliable. Anyone who passes the vibe check gets the real functioning WiFi.

Welcome to my Home

Would you like a drink? Sure thing, White Claw or mezcal? Anything to eat? I have tortilla chips and four different types of salsa. Or I could make you a pizza bagel! No really, it's no trouble at all.

Take a seat! Make yourself at home! Oh sorry that couch can be uncomfy. I haven't bought any throw pillows yet, I'll grab one from my bed. Here you go.