The Future of Cocktails Is Already Happening in Omaha
Anna’s Place isn’t a speakeasy. It’s not a theme bar.
We’re just a cocktail bar in Omaha — and we care a lot about what’s in your glass.
When we opened Anna’s Place, the goal was simple: make unforgettable drinks using house-made ingredients, local flavor, and a little grit. Now we’re taking everything we’ve learned and flipping the script on how cocktails get served in this city.
Why the Cocktail Scene Shifted
If you were drinking (or bartending) ten years ago, you remember the era. Omaha bars were buzzing with classics, revivals, obscure spirits, and long-winded stories about ingredients. People were learning what made a Negroni tick. The culture around cocktails was booming.
Then COVID hit.
Bars closed. Industry veterans left. And a whole generation of new drinkers missed out on that transfer of knowledge — the mentorship, the vibe, the unspoken rules of what made a cocktail matter. For a while, drinks got simpler. Seltzers ruled. Vodka + fruit was back.
Now? We’re moving forward — and we’re doing it our way.
What We’re Launching at Anna’s Place
Starting in August, Anna’s Place will debut two full pages of house-made, ready-to-drink cocktails. These are carbonated, bottled drinks served just like a beer or a seltzer. Pop the cap, pour, and enjoy.
But here’s the catch — everything inside the bottle is made right here, by us.
We carbonate in-house
We make all the syrups ourselves
We infuse our own spirits
No co-packing. No gimmicks. Just solid technique, bottled
You’ll still find balance, creativity, and layered flavor — just served in a way that fits how people drink now.
Why This Matters for Omaha
We want to be the bar that shows Omaha a new lane for great drinks.
Not everything needs to be stirred for 10 minutes. Not every cocktail needs to feel like a ceremony. You can get something excellent — made by hand — in under a minute. No shortcuts, just better systems.
We’re not abandoning the old ways. We’re just translating them into something faster, smarter, and more fun.
Try Them Before Everyone Else
Our bottled cocktail menu launches in August. Come see what we’re building at Anna’s Place in downtown Omaha, inside Hotel Indigo at 1804 Dodge Street.
Want to write about it? We’re happy to share behind-the-scenes access, ingredient sourcing, or the weird nerdy stuff we’ve been doing to dial this in.
Contact: info@annasplaceomaha.com
Reading Between the Lines: A Closer Look at Tarot Tuesdays in Omaha
Documenting a weekly ritual inside Anna’s Place
On Tuesday nights, something a little quieter happens in downtown Omaha.
There’s no DJ. No stage. No QR codes promising bucket deals.
Just a small, dark room. A reader. A deck of cards. And you.
This is Tarot Tuesdays at Anna’s Place—a bar tucked inside a hotel, known more for its cocktails and calm than its crowd. From 9 p.m. to midnight, the room shifts. It doesn’t get louder—it gets deeper.
And people keep coming back.
A Different Kind of Bar
Anna’s Place isn’t a theme night. It’s not a pop-up. It’s not trying to go viral.
It’s a bar built on intentionality. That applies to the drinks—crafted with house-made ingredients and months of testing—but it also applies to the energy in the room. There’s a ritual at the door: new guests are asked to keep voices down, phones dimmed, and to wait for a staff member to let them in.
It’s not pretentious.
It’s about creating a space where people can relax without needing to perform.
And that makes it the perfect setting for something like tarot.
What Tarot Really Is
Most people still think of tarot as fortune-telling.
But anyone who’s sat with a good reader knows that’s not quite right.
Tarot isn’t about predicting your future—it’s about checking in with your present.
It’s a conversation. A moment of reflection.
For some, it’s the first time all week they’ve stopped to think about what’s actually going on in their own head.
For others, it’s a tool they’ve used for years—one that helps them name what they’re feeling when the words won’t come.
At Anna’s Place, you’ll meet readers like Knox and Madame Davina, who alternate Tuesdays. Each brings a different style, but they share the same approach: quiet connection, gentle guidance, no theatrics.
The bar doesn’t promise transformation.
But if you’re open to it, you might leave with more clarity than you came in with.
Why It Works
Something about the room makes it easier to talk.
Maybe it’s the candlelight.
Maybe it’s the fact that there’s no TV shouting over your shoulder.
Maybe it’s the drink in your hand that was mixed with more attention than you expected.
Whatever it is, people show up for it.
And unlike most spaces where spiritual practices are either hidden or hyped, here it’s just part of the rhythm.
Like everything else, it’s approached with care.
No Gimmicks. No Flash. Just Time to Think.
If you’re someone who prefers meaning to noise…
If you’ve been feeling a little too full and a little too disconnected…
If you’re just looking for something in Omaha that feels real—
You’ll find something worth sitting with at Tarot Tuesday.
Tarot Tuesdays | 9 p.m. to Midnight
Anna’s Place — annasplaceomaha.com
Follow @annasplaceomaha for weekly updates.
Sex Work as Intimacy Work
Anna Wilson, Omaha’s so-called ‘Queen of the Underworld,’ built her fortune in sex work and gave the city its first hospital. Her story forces us to ask: why do we still shame the intimacy labor that keeps us human?
Too often, “sex work” is reduced to one narrow definition — penetration. But that’s a patriarchal oversimplification. Sex work has always been about more than a single act. It is better understood as intimacy labor: the selling of connection, attention, or presence in a world where those things are scarce.
Consider the spectrum:
Stripping, burlesque, or erotic dance.
Erotic massage without genital contact.
Fetish work, camming, sexting, phone sex.
The “girlfriend experience” dinner date.
Even the companionship of a bartender or hairdresser who remembers your story.
All of these provide intimacy. All of them keep people tethered to something human. And in many cases, people willingly pay for it because they are not finding it elsewhere.
Block print style artwork reimagining Anna Wilson, Omaha’s ‘Queen of the Underworld,’ alongside a bartender — two eras of intimacy work in one room.
Intimacy as a Human Need
Science backs what history and lived experience already know: humans do not survive without intimacy. Studies show that touch lowers stress hormones, reduces pain, and even lengthens lifespan. Emotional intimacy — being heard, being seen, being recognized — plays the same role for the mind. Without these connections, loneliness corrodes health as surely as hunger or thirst.
That need for intimacy explains why sex work has existed in every society across history. It is not a fringe activity; it is the predictable response to a universal human hunger.
Anna Wilson as an Intimacy Entrepreneur
Anna Wilson recognized that hunger before Omaha even had the language for it. In a city that was little more than a railroad town, she created a third space: not home, not work, but a living room for the city.
Her brothel offered sex upstairs, yes — but it also offered shelter, glamour, conversation, and connection. Patrons could drink, socialize, and feel wanted in ways the rest of polite society denied them. Her business lasted for forty years because it delivered something Omaha needed but refused to acknowledge.
Anna was not corrupt. She survived in a system that criminalized her work while quietly relying on it. The “corruption” lay not in her choices but in the city’s willingness to condemn her publicly while benefitting privately.
Hospitality as Intimacy Labor
The connection between sex work and hospitality is closer than most admit. At their core, both professions exist to create a space where people feel seen and cared for. A bartender listens, comforts, and validates. A therapist does the same. A hairdresser or tattoo artist offers touch, conversation, and presence.
Anna’s Place exists in that lineage. It was never meant to be “just a bar.” It was conceived as a modern living room, where intimacy is built through ritual, conversation, and care. That is not a gimmick — it is the very heart of hospitality.
Projects like the Confession Line echo this truth. Guests can call anonymously, leave their stories, and know that someone will hear them. The purpose is not entertainment but recognition: proof that voices matter, even when they are not attached to names. That is intimacy work in its purest form.
Why This Still Matters
COVID-19 stripped entire generations of their formative years of intimacy. High school and college students missed the ordinary social lessons of gathering, flirting, belonging. Many adults learned to live on couches and phones, avoiding face-to-face encounters. Even now, years later, the effects linger. Loneliness is epidemic, and younger generations especially struggle to reestablish what was lost.
This makes intimacy labor more important than ever. People still pay for it — through therapy, bartenders, hair salons, content creators, and sex workers — because the need remains. But as a culture, we continue to shame some forms of this labor while glorifying others.
That is the contradiction Anna Wilson’s story exposes. She gave Omaha its first hospital, cared for her community, and created a space for intimacy long before the city had any infrastructure to provide it. Yet she was vilified, erased, and buried outside respectability.
The same stigma lingers today. Intimacy work is essential, but those who provide it are still marginalized. Hospitality workers are praised as “essential,” but rarely treated with dignity. Sex workers are consumed in secret and shamed in public. Therapists, bartenders, hairdressers, dancers, creators — all of them carry the burden of holding people together, often without recognition.
Anna Wilson’s story matters because it proves the point: intimacy is survival. The people who provide it — whether through sex work, bartending, or any other form — are not corrupt, immoral, or disposable. They are the ones holding the fragile fabric of human connection in place.
And the real question isn’t why Anna Wilson was shamed then. The real question is: why are we still doing it now?