I Played Meat Bingo at a Century-Old Oregon Dive Bar
Vice - 05-21
I’m sitting at a bar, drinking a beer, and my heart is beating like a war drum. The familiar aromas of sizzling burger meat and tater tots tickle my olfactory nerves, and my ears are at full attention. Every sense is acute as my eyes dart frenetically across the bar in front of me. I can’t miss anything—not one sight or sound—because there’s bratwurst on the line.