Spain's restaurant was packed, and despite the fact that I'd called ahead, dad and I found ourselves sitting in the bar area while we awaited our table. Dad had been sweet; asking me first if I was okay sitting at the bar and then after I said I was fine asking if it would bother me if he had a beer. I told him of course not, but I really appreciated him asking. I left out that I hated beer and it was hard liquor that even now once in a great while would call out to me. Between the crowd and the TV over the bar blasting the Sox...