[ WP ] A man walks into a bar that will serve any drink its customer wants . Over the course of a few rounds , our drinker realises the bar will serve ANY drink .

He strolled in with his chest held high, arms swaying at a tempo and flow that matched his gait perfectly. I watch every man enter the bar, study them, size them up, learn them. Each one is at my measure, falling into a different bin that I use to sort them. Some bins are full, teeming with typical. Others less so, where outliers reside, individuals separated from the herd and waiting for their chance to flourish. 
 
 The bar does not disclose its privilege and those who attend are under strict rules that govern the disclosure of this benefit. Thus, each new patron must discover it on his or her own. A litmus test for where they lie in the order of things. 
 
 The room is dimly lit with hushed bossa nova filling the space. He orders his first drink. Simple. Plain. Clear. The same for the second. I watch him now. He observes the room, each drink being drank, the choice behind the bar, the people that surround him. He finishes his second. I've witnessed this countless times, *the realization* that infinite choice lay before a man. It is a profound moment that can be defining. 
 
 He looks at the bartender with intention to order his third. A brief exchange of words between them, too faint for me to hear. 
 
 The third arrives and in that instant I know the man I'm searching for is found.
