Two years ago, I wandered from a laundromat in Southwest Harbor, Maine, into an adjoining bar I’d been avoiding for the past hour. It was mid-day, a rainy one at that (actually, the rain was partly what had brought us to the laundromat), and the sounds emanating from the bar were a loud mix of music, television, and voices. It didn’t seem like the type of place I really wanted to wander into in the middle of the day, but I really needed to use the restroom.
So, while Chris waited with the laundry-in-progress, I hesitantly walked through the divide. It ended up being possibly the best decision either of us had made all day.