Thirty seconds have passed since I stepped into the Top of the Hill
Tavern, and I’m already engaging in the first of the evening’s many
high-fives. “What’s a Grape Bomb?” I’ve asked Mouse, the world’s
friendliest bartender, in reference to the $5.75 special. “You can’t go
to Top of the Hill without havin’ a Grape Bomb!” the gentleman on my
left promptly enthuses before ordering one for each of us and
introducing me to all the grizzled old-timers seated at the bar.