I hope that you too have a special place. Where you know exactly how many miles as each exit sign passes. A place where the exit off the interstate gives you goosebumps. Where you can still walk down Minnesota Street and see the same friendly faces from years prior. Where the smell of stale cigarette smoke floats through the bar and it brings you back to nights of warm Jameson and more awkward dance parties than you could ever truly put a number too.