Any bar that has autographed photos of strippers and John Waters on the wall must be worthy of something. The Holiday House is the de facto family room of Harford Road. At happy hour a man wearing a business suit takes a seat at the bar between two blue-collar workers, their names stitched on their uniforms. They don't appear to be acquainted, but within five minutes they're chatting like old army buddies. Bob, a patron since the '60s sits at the poker machine and accidentally spills a beer on the floor. He takes a mop from the closet and cleans it up himself. A shrine to a particularly beloved, deceased patron hangs nearby. Whenever a patron passes away, Holiday House likes to honor them with a little memorial. A great tradition at a great bar.