It's just a brick wall. You push through to get to the bar, and yell over to the bartender for directions.
"Other side of the bar," he shouts back, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.
It's just a brick wall.
"Honey, I said the other side of the bar," the bartender shouts, pausing from mixing drinks to pile back her bright purple hair.
You go back again. It's still a wall.