A few steps from the entrance I can hear a flamenco guitar and hard claps. There is no signage in the front of the Blue Nocturnal Bar. Only a wooden arc door painted cobalt blue with a panel of yellow ceramic tile. In the panel is a bird in flight touching a flower. I grab the door handle and enter the Blue Nocturnal Bar.
Stepping inside I see an assembly sitting down on both sides of a small round stage. Near the door, a three-tier seating area made of wood that stretches to the stage. Three men in suites, four men with beards with ladies in sun-dresses; two older couples, a group of six young people wearing hand-made clothes, and a young girl taking notes sits next to a Yardman drinking his ginger tea while tapping his foot.
On stage an older man with brown shoes and dressed in denim with a green scarf loosely wrapped around his neck, chants words like a prayer. He stands clapping hard while raising his pitch at times in unison with the flamenco guitarist sitting on a old wooden mahogany chair.
A smaller section of the three-tier seating faces the stage in the corner next to a hallway. Here five people in t-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops sit among two Beats and a Korean War Veteran who dons his uniform and sits comfortably listening with a smile. The assembly feast on this first course before they enter a hallway to the bar’s main room.
I walk to the Vet, pat him on the shoulder offering a smile and a quick hello as I continue to the hallway. The hallway’s red painted walls are lit by a single soft white bulb, hanging in the middle of it’s purple ceiling. People line the way and lean back playin’ cool. A hitchhiker named T-square is conversing with another hitchhiker called Redbones. I shake T-square’s hand and he gives me a nod as Redbones give me a friendly shove and laughs while placing both of his hands on my shoulders. I walk by a couple passionately kissing against the wall. Then a young Catholic priest smoking a cigarette offers a light to a man named Sidewalk Charlie, who holds a pint in one hand a cigar in the other. Dressed in a gold corduroy jacket, white dress shirt and beige tie with blue jeans and dirty black dress shoes, he stops me before I enter the bar’s main room. Sidewalk Charlie says to the priest, “Can I tell him, I’ll feel closer to God if you let me say it Father.” “Sure you can Charlie,” says the priest. “Bless you,” he says loudly, than lifts his pint and extends his arm towards the bar.