The bar on the corner, the one with the one old man slinging drinks and quirky décor on the walls, is going to close. What will replace it? A soullessly swank spot with a mustachioed bartender in suspenders tossing together artisanal cocktails. He can make any drink you want, provided that drink isn't a cheap beer. If money is an object, be sure to ask what you'll be paying for these pricey concoctions. You might end up spending half a month's rent for a single round if you aren't careful.

While you enjoy your drink (and for that price, you'd better enjoy it), you can marvel at the vaguely old-timey outfits of the staff, the vaguely old-timey font on the menu, and the vaguely old-timey jazzy-bluesy chanteuse tunes emanating from the iPod behind the bar. You can marvel at how it all feels so terribly new. It used to be that you could pay $3.50 for a pounder of some little-known swill and you could even add shot of Old Granddad to make it an even $5.

Now the only thing at the bar for $5 is the cover.