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About Bari

So, this one time—heard a story, blew my mind. Some chick in Amsterdam, 1800s, worked the docks. Called her “Red Liza”—fiery hair, attitude to match. She’d smuggle gin in her skirts, dodge the cops, total badass. Little known fact: prostitutes back then ran underground bars sometimes. Hustlin’ on the sly—respect, man, respect. Surprised me, how clever they got. Dodgin’ the law, stackin’ coin. “You think you’re so big,” I’d tell ‘em, smirkin’—they’d outsmart me any day.

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As the night goes on, things get crazier. A couple of guys start pushin’ each other near the bar. I’m like, “Oh no, not tonight!” I step in, and it’s like I’m a referee in a boxing match. “Keep it cool, fellas!” But they’re not havin’ it. One guy shoves the other, and I’m ready to throw ‘em out. But then, the bartender, Marco, jumps in. He’s a legend. He pours them both a shot and says, “First round’s on me if you chill.” And guess what? It works! They hug it out like best buds. I’m just standin’ there, amazed.

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