After a couple of drinks on my behalf and more peanuts on his behalf, we’d figured out that we both lived on the westside.
It turned out that the dive he was inhabiting was only a block from mine. Good. That solved the eternal problem of how I was getting home.
It was easier to drink in the bars on the east side. The bar managers there weren’t as fussy about when their customers had last visited a hairdresser.
Also if going across town, fewer drunks would be bothered following you home, whether they were on two legs or four.