On a Sunday afternoon, Finley and I needed to get together to talk about a project.
I don't remember what the project was, but I do remember it was important.
Finley had me pull into a pub on University Avenue called the Dublinger.
The place was as big as a soccer pitch.
It must have been early in the day because nobody was in the joint except Finley, the bartender and me.
I'm guessing the neighborhood was at Mass.
After ordering a round of Harp, I felt it was time to get serious.
But Finley couldn't focus, his eyes were blazing, he was falling in love with our aesthetic.
The windows were covered with faded Irish flags, and the walls had torn up JFK posters, probably from the original campaign.
When Mike's attention joined mine, I was happy because I thought we would start....but then he had to pee.
Upon his return, I asked him what should be our first topic we tackle that day, As I lifted my clipboard and took the cap off of my pen Finley responded.... "So why do you think they throw ice in urinals?"
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