There was a drinking establishment in Bremerton, Washington called the White Pig Tavern. Some wag hung the name on it of “Albino Swine-o,” one of the great nicknames I have ever come across (see: Emil “Hillbilly” Billdilli; Arlie “The Freshest Man on Earth” Latham; and Bob “Death to Flying Things” Ferguson).
This is not about the Swine-o – I didn’t live in Bremerton long enough to darken its door or vomit in its alley. My post-21 years of age era overlapped with my residency in Kitsap County long enough to make only one place a regular haunt – the Nite Shift, located at 242 Burwell Street.
I had no friends, no roommates, no girlfriends in the area – I couldn’t wait to hit the legal drinking age: Well, I did have friends but they were all of age. I overheard tales of the tender underbelly of Bremerton nightlife: the Swine-o, the El Camino, The Crow’s Nest, Our Place (actually in Silverdale), the Black Angus.