Ryan Maguire's Ale House was the bar of choice for my coworkers long before Paul and I started joining them almost a year ago.
Why? A great choice of reasonably priced beers, nice bartenders, a good jukebox and plenty of space. And it's only five blocks from the office.
Until last week. An early morning fire destroyed the bar.
I'm sorry for the owner and the employees. I'm sorry for the people living in the apartments above (four hospitalized, and all expected to fully recover). And I'm sorry that a place with so many good memories literally went up in smoke.
New York has thousands of bars. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands. But it might as well have about three, because that's the number I frequent with any sort of regularity. Sure, New York has quantity. But the diamonds are hidden, and in Ryan's we had found one. Now it's back to the search.