Try on the shoes of a tradesman in the pre-prohibition days of the eighteenth and nineteenth century on one of the oldest streets in Federal Hill. You open the door, the sound of chitter chatter and the clanging of roping tools emanate the air surrounding you. You work for Navy ships in the Baltimore Harbor, building what will be the most powerful vessels in the world. Fast-forward to the same place, present time to the Ropewalk Tavern. Sounds of laughter and talking, along with the scratching of dinnerware replace the noises that once inhabited. To your left you see men in their 20's playing pool and to the right ladies smiling with margaritas. All of this stimulation replacing where men once worked making ropes through the heat of the summer and frost of winter some 200 years ago.
As you glance around you notice that the history of this place is very much alive, reading above the bar, "DON'T TREAD ON ME". "Excuse me," a voice says behind you, "only one today?" She escorts you to a table with tall chairs and while climbing up you see an old pulley through a hole in the ceiling. The menu has a page with the history, now you start to understand what these walls have seen. It's just a Tuesday and yet this place doesn't have a seat to be found. You realize that this is not only a bar and restaurant, but also a place that holds a brilliant history and hopefully a bright future for generations to come.
Word Count: 249
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