The story of the Central District is happening inside the Neighbor Lady. The diverse crowd of thirty- and fortysomethings gathered around the three-sided bar all seem to know one another: the white-haired couple, the grad student, the Larry Wilmore look-alike, the bartender who works as a bike messenger by day. The Neighbor Lady’s owners originally envisioned the toile wallpaper and dim amber glow imparting an “urban bordello” vibe. But a neighborhood has a way of making a bar into whatever it needs. Apparently this one needed a place where new neighbors and old ones could establish a rapport over reliable cocktails, basic local beers, and sweet potato fries or shrimp and grits.