Dive Bar

Layla

The Black Penny in the French Quarter is definitely a dive, but everything is all lush, dark paint and leather, as I follow Bailey and her cousin, Adam, through the darkened threshold into the bar. Beyond the bar, the sidewalk is teeming with nightlife. Music flows through the street, mingling with riotous chatter and the occasionally drunken body swaying to the music in the middle of the road. 

We’d spent the day exploring New Orleans. I’m full of beignets, and my ears are ringing from the sweet sound of a saxophone as we saddle up to a high-top table near the front of the bar. Adam leaves to order drinks, disappearing into the throng of jazz music and lively conversation. 

“I’m so glad you came with us tonight!” Bailey exclaims over the noise, leaning in to brush the words directly into my ear. “You’ve been in a trance the past couple of weeks. I thought I’d never be able to get you out of the house!”

“What do you mean?” Le