Like Madonna (Or…Something)

When I lived in London during my junior year of college, there was a bar that my girlfriends and I used to go to called – I think – Peppermint Park. Or something like that.

This place was not even a tiny bit cool: it served neon, flaming drinks that created hangovers practically before they were drunk (and served them with zero sense of irony), had low ceilings and balloons and streamers tossed around, was populated solely by us and a handful of creepy businessmen-types clustered around the ba...