Tweet Illustration: Molly Brooks The guitar player raises a beer mug above his head. âSaturday night at Brownâs Diner. You will know that you are here by the plushness of the carpet and the sip in your Champagne.â I sit at the bar with a cheeseburger and the only beer that Brownâs serves on draft, the King of Beers â Bud, or âButt-Wiper,â as Rocco calls it. Dead tired from cooking the day shift, I stare down at the âplush carpetâ beneath my barstool. Decades of foot traffic have peeled away brown linoleum tiles, exposing a pattern of buffalo plaid.