The Six Arms

I haven't seen Jon Agnone in over six years...before that, it was probably another five. That's a long time not to see someone that you practically grew up with, and it was a good reunion.

Jon and his sister Jen grew up right across the street from me back in Youngstown. We always got in a lot of trouble together, but it was always innocent kid stuff, most of which if I remember correctly, I mainly instigated. We had a great time growing up, but after high school each of us went their separate ways, occasionally catching up with each other through myspace or a random run-in back at home.

I think Jon's been out here for about six and half years, and the last time we had seen each other back at home, I believe he mentioned that he just moved out for school. That's stuck in my mind and before heading out this way, I sent him a line telling him that we'd be in town and it'd be great to meet out. Fast forward to last night, only a few blocks from our hotel, we meet out at McMenamins' Six Arms bar, a cool little microbrew joint that has outlets all over Seattle and Portland, one of which we had already planned on stopping at in Portland without even knowing that they're related.

We spent the majority of the night catching up on old times and filling each other in on what's been going on for the past decade with our families, careers and what-not, throwing back a few drinks (the only other guy I've met that voluntarily drinks a Rusty Nail), and detailing the rest of our trip with a few suggestions as to what to do when we head down to Portland and back the following day.

Honestly we could've talked longer, but the bar closed up and announced last call. A few minutes later we said our good-byes and once again headed our separate ways, Jon back home and us to our hotel, with the promise to give one another a call when we get back into town. Once again, just a really cool thing when you see someone for the first time in years, and it doesn't feel like much time has passed at all. The one thing we didn't do was trade old stories about the neighborhood, but we'll have to save that for another time, when the bar is open later and the shelves are stocked with an adequate amount of Drambuie and single-malt Scotch.