Busch on draft is $1.25 at The Locker Room, a gloriously divey watering hole on White Center's main drag full of character and drinkers of all stripes. One magical night, when the bartender ran out of proper glasses to pour that Busch in, she decided to charge me "half-price." That's right: a mere 65 cents per Busch, which she shrewdly rounded up from 62.5 (capitalism, baby). I felt like I was drinking during the Depression with an aristocrat's wallet, so I drank a lot. When I called back to confirm that this hadn't been, in fact, a dream (one I dream frequently), I asked the employee who picked up the phone if hers was the place that served the super-cheap Busch. "No, not really," she replied. "So what's the price?" I inquired. "A dollar twenty-five," she said. I then asked what it would cost to rent the utility closet for sleeping purposes so I would never have to leave.—Mike Seely