A couple customers stood near the far right, and, at the far left, a guy had his head resting on the bar and his hand on a bottle of beer. I hoped he was sleeping, and not quietly sobbing to himself. Next to him, someone sang karaoke, but Mr. Head-On-Bar didn't budge.

There was a Coke machine -- the first Coke machine I've seen inside a bar -- which sold cans of soda for a tidy sum of $1.50. Lordy!

None of the bartenders we encountered spoke much English, and none of us spoke much Spanish, which made ordering anything but beer nearly impossible at any of these places.

Our favorite of the three bars we hit up was Arizona, at the corner of South Broadway and East Lombard Street. The DJ was spinning everything from Jay-Z to South American oom-pah accordion jams.

At least once every 30 seconds, he would hit a sound effect button and the sound of an air horn would cut the room like a knife. 

AYOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Hee hee. Har har!

Usually, when the Midnight Sons roll into niche bars like these, the bartenders immediately ask for our IDs -- probably because they think we're cops, or liquor board inspectors. We got the stink eye at more than a few Latin joints, but nobody carded us. Maybe they were too afraid of us carding them? Immigration pun!

In all sobriety, we made new friends and chatted up the regulars. It was a blast.

(Baltimore Sun photos by Lloyd Fox)