Mr. Harada and I are rarely offended: mainly because we’re poor listeners but also because we’re lazy. Of course, this is not the case when it comes to the hallowed grounds where we sip, reflect, compose and sometimes repose. We take offense to so-called “happy hour” offers in the valley named after element number 14.

Dollar-off domestic brews from 3-5pm—why bother scribbling that on a chalkboard? Jaeger shots for $2—it’s a digestif, unless your name is Kobayashi and you’ve just finished an eating contest. We object to half-priced menus that feature half-sized portions, “deals” on inappropriately flavored liqueurs (bananas have no business in a bottle), and various permutations of whatever swill won’t move off the shelf during evening hours. Alas, the happy days of happy hour have dissolved like morning alka seltzer.

Or, so we thought. One Tuesday ago, fate smiled upon us with a mighty grin.

Mr. Harada suggested an early in the week meeting to discuss our various interest and investments, and we decided on a quiet option close to my compound. I mounted my golden hoverboard and rolled luxuriously toward The Sherwood Inn on Almaden Expressway. I’m not sure how Mr. Harada arrived, because when I hovered into the bar, my eyes locked on a beauty so outrageous I lost track of time, space and my bank account.

My eyes filled with tears as I contemplated the gorgeous announcement: “Second drink is $0.25.” Any drink. You want top-shelf, great, that’ll be a quarter of a dollar for the next. How about massive appetizers for half off? Done.

I sighed into a fine Scotch and glazed over while Xavier Cugat’s “Brazil” played on the jukebox. Overwhelmed with the good times, I was startled by Mr. Harada when he appeared next to me without a sound. How long was he there? I’m not sure. Tuesday nights at The Sherwood Inn are that good.

The interior is old-school. It actually has a ceiling. There are no exposed portions of HVAC. It’s all flat, with a bit of popcorn. Somehow, I found it appealing. The happy hour made it hard to discern between dream and reality, and Roger, our bartender, looked like he had stepped off the set of Cocktail. He was attentive and cordial.

A fellow patron, one Harry Tuttle, assured us that the HVAC was in tip-top condition and verified that this is the best happy hour in town. Mr. Harada and I agreed. Somehow, after all obstacles, The Sherwood Inn is able to cater to those who need a little boost to settle into the week.

The Sherwood Inn
2988 Almaden Expy., San Jose.