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I have a memory from many years ago, as a fresh-faced young college student barely past legal drinking age, of sauntering into a bar with my friend, Michael, for the late-night happy hour.

Everyone has had a friend like Michael. It was with him that I sneaked an illicit pint into a movie, with which to spike our sodas (the innocent Rob Reiner film The Princess Bride, can you believe). With Michael, I graduated from girly strawberry daiquiris to 7-and-7s (ugh — I shudder now at the memory). And it was Michael who found us this little tucked-away bar that night, where the late-night promotion combined two offers: 25-cent drinks and five-for-one happy hour.

Five for one, folks. For a quarter.

We not only lined up a healthy array of little soldiers on the bar before us, but generously supplied a round for everyone in the place. I think Michael spent about $13 for the privilege.

This was long before the ill effects of overimbibing patrons were deemed the legal responsibility of the establishment that had provided them. It was back in the carefree ‘80s, when excess dictated everything from alcohol consumption to shoulder pads to hairstyles.

Nowadays, happy hours (and fashions) are somewhat tamer.

But don’t tell that to the early-evening crowd at Sandcastles at the Hilton, where their daily two-for-one happy hour stuffs the place wall to wall, with literally nearly every seat filled.

Sandcastles is an odd little anomaly. Sequestered off the lobby of the Hilton, it flanks the pool area and the casual outside Beach Club Bar and Grill. In direct counterpoint to those laid-back surrounds, Sandcastles is a throwback to an earlier era, with its understated décor and elegant ambiance. Walls of soothing gray-blue bracket a raised lounge area. Individual tables are dotted throughout the room, and low chairs are lined up before a bar of cool, white marble.

And central to it all is a polished, black baby grand piano, where live players provide music that fits in with the old-world atmosphere in the bar.

On a recent Saturday evening, the softly pretty Lilah Carson walked up the stairs a few minutes early for her 5:30 to 8:30 shift and started giving the ivories a fearsome tickling.

Seated at the bar, with the gregarious Earl from Jamaica tending it, I played mental Name that Tune with myself as Carson began running through her instrumental song list — harder than you would expect without the assistance of lyrics.

I’ve Got You Under My Skin. Check. Ain’t Misbehavin. Got it. “

Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love) — right there with you, Lilah.

And so was Earl, merrily singing along when the mood took him, either with the actual lyrics or some of his own choosing.

And then things got unexpected. Faith Hill’s Breathe. Elton John’s Your Song. Blue Moon. Isn’t She Lovely? Help Me Make It Through the Night, A Whole New World from the Little Mermaid sound track.

Carson, so it turns out, has quite the eclectic little play list. I suppose that’s to be expected from a woman who first sat down on a piano bench to pick out a melody at age 3, and has been playing nonstop ever since.

A native Chicagoan, she studied at that city’s prestigious American Conservatory of Music before embarking on a career in her chosen field. Listening to her talk about music reveals her passion for it.

“I enjoy doing it,” she says. “I put my heart into it.” She’s constantly picking up new songs, all the better to please audiences likely to request a wide array of styles.

And she prides herself on her musicality and flow — “I don’t just play notes.” Her renditions have a fluidity to them that not all players can boast; and even when patrons approach her during a tune to request a song or simply pay a compliment, she carries on a full, smiling conversation while never missing a note.

Carson relocated to the area in ‘04 for work at Ritz-Carlton, and she plays the Lemonia at their Tiburón locale every Sunday for brunch. (You can also find her there playing for dinner and tea, periodically.) Other gigs are mostly private, but not unlike many of Sandcastle’s patrons, she’s a regular Saturday fixture there for their happy hour.

And finally, I have to give a shout-out to three loyal readers who kept me amply entertained while I sat in my usual solitude at the bar: Bob, Marv and Pete should bundle up their act and take it on the road, their banter and quips flying almost as fast as Carson’s talented fingers.

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