This is part of a series of tidbits from chapters of my book Bars, Taverns and Dives New Yorkers Love, published by Rizzoli. You can order it from Powell’s, Amazon, Rizzoli, and Barnes & Noble. Signed prints of all the bars in the book are available here.

Happy Hour at Ashley’s Bar, Ann Arbor

Some of my best memories of former jobs have nothing whatsoever to do with being at the office. They’re about going out after work with my co-workers. The social connections, the good times, the ridiculous moments. It’s what we’re here to do—connect with other people—and the old post-work happy hour is key to that.

Years back, I worked a job where the staff had to be a little buttoned-down during the day, but a cadre of instigators—let’s call them Dave and Jon and Bob—started a beautiful daily ritual.

Around 4 p.m. those guys would wrap up their day, hustle to the elevator, look at me, tap their wristwatches, and mime a large gulp from an invisible pint glass. (I assume it was a pint glass.) That meant “It’s tipplin’ time. Let’s go.” They’d disappear into the elevator and skedaddle down the street to a little pub two blocks from the office. I usually had to work a little longer, but that feeling of “something going on” was exciting, and I’d get a happy little charge when I’d wrap up, hit the elevator myself, and head down to the pub.

I’d fast-walk down the street with a bounce in my step, and when I’d get to the bar, they’d already be there, deep into their first or second beer (LaBatt Blue, $1.75 from 4–7 p.m.), sitting at the usual table up by the front window. When I walked in, they’d raise their glasses and let lout a joyous, welcoming sound. “HeeeeeEEEEEYYYYY!!” they’d bellow, like the crowd at a football game during kickoff.

I miss that sound, that joyful noise, and it buoys my heart now, just writing about it. It meant “you’re here! Finally! And we’re damn glad to see you.” And who wouldn’t love to hear that after a hard day’s work? It’s like when Norm walked into Cheers. It’s like on Seinfeld when the fourth one walked into the diner, or Jerry’s apartment. It’s that feeling of coming home to people who love you. Who doesn’t like that?