The differences between competing liquor stores might seem trivial to those in search of mere hooch. The distinctions are for those who seek a higher, finer something. Selection is a part of it, but not a huge one — some stores cater to the Boone's Farm crowd, some to the people who swill Hendricks, but most booze-pushers are happy selling to either demo. So it goes at 67, with one key difference: 67's got a 50-something-year-old English guy behind the counter who kindly, solicitously, and totally un-pushily engages every human being that enters his domain. His name's John and he's been there forever, or so it seems, escorting guests through 67's big wine selection and explaining the history of port, or why Château Lafite-Rothschild produces such lovely reds; spinning customers through the liquor racks and rapping about why Fris is a perfectly yummy vodka despite its reasonable price and what makes 25-year-old Highland Park scotch worth $250 a bottle. Customer service of this stripe is a dying art, and it's why even folks on the other side of town routinely make the drive to 67.