We met today with our friendly neighborhood asbestos inspector/architectural plan creator, Eddie. He looked around for 20 minutes, and proceeded to charge us $750 for his "services" (Kevin, our landlord's response: "This is crazy! Fucking city! Before, I never pay city for permit!"). But everything's in order, apparently, and we should have a building permit application done by Christmas, in time to get the permit by mid-January, hopefully.
Kevin has an amazing old wooden rotary phone. His ex-wife hated it because she believed antiques bring ghosts with them. But we might try to get it for the bar. We could use a steady stream of well-heeled spectres and poltergeists on the less busy nights. I just hope they're not a bunch of Ketel One and O.J.-drinking jerks.
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