The place was rustic, no matter which way you looked at it.  The tables were made from slices of tree trunks, circular and polished to a high shine.  The walls were red brick and the paintings hanging on them were rough with beer caps and rope nailed along the frames.

            I wondered how The Ravari Room would accommodate a band known for its leather and bondage.  I mean, where were they going to tie up the guy?  And, most importantly, were they taking volunteers?

            A lady called out to me as I passed the front of the juke box.  “Oh, my God!” she said.  “I love your coat!”

            “Thank you,” I said.  I continued on to the bar.

            “Don’t you love his coat!?” the lady shouted to the bar tender as I passed by her.

            “Yes,” the bartender said to me.  “It’s so cool.”

            “Thank you,” I said.