The word "legacy" has been worn out through overuse since these Games began but you do wonder what kind of "legacy" these Games will leave. It pays to be wary of corporate claims about benefits to the local economy (estimated by the organisers to be 52 million ($103 million) at the halfway stage of the Games. But really? How do they know this? Did they physically count it? And who is it actually benefiting?) so we won't bother going there.
What's more important, perhaps, is what the Glasgow Games have done for the Games themselves. Have these friendly Games managed to revitalise a brand that was in need of an update? Or will no amount of royal photo bombs and Scottish ceremonial confection convince the cynics that these Games are anything but past their "best by" date.
Cynics, critics, haters, whatever. Opinions are like, well, you know how the saying goes. Ask the athletes though, like Kirani James, the Grenadian fresh prince of the track who broke the Commonwealth Games record in the 400m, and you'll hear him talk in glowing terms about the standard of competition here in Glasgow.
In fact, that's the endless refrain from the athletes here on the side of the Clyde. Weightlifting gold medallist Richie Patterson talked of it after Kiribati's David Katoatau's history-making clean and jerk on Wednesday night. Nigeria's Blessing Okagbare talked about it after her 100m victory. DJ Forbes and Gordon Tietjens talked about it after their sevens final at Ibrox. More than 100 Games records tumbled in the first week of competition. It's clear to see the athletes aren't making this stuff up.
If the purpose of this event is to afford us the chance to watch world-class athletes performing at their very best, and to be inspired by that, then the XXth Commonwealth Games has more than met its brief. Scotland has celebrated its stars of the Games, I'm sure New Zealand is doing the same, and I know Kiribati is still partying for David Katoatau.
Maybe there's something else that these Games leave for us: a reminder that it's okay to have a bit of fun, even in the serious business of winning; to have a laugh even through the disappointment; to enjoy the moment, even though it's fleeting; and to be yourself, just as Scotland has been, just how our athletes have been. Back at Alfredo's Jim ordered a pint for me. He popped it down on the bar and before I had a chance to thank him he smiled, patted me on the back and said, simply and sincerely, "You're most welcome." Then he turned to Amanda, threw her some quality chat and turned to walk away. She rolled her eyes, smiled her long-suffering smile and shot straight back, "Get your head out ya arse!"
I looked around the bar one last time - I loved every bit of its awfulness - and I tried to think of a way to sum up these Games. It's a great festival of sport, really. It knows what it is and where it stands. It hasn't completely sold its soul to the corporates, yet. It's a serious business that doesn't take itself too seriously.
Maybe Amanda the Bar Lady was on to it. Maybe the Commonwealth Games are simply there to remind you that it's okay to have a bit of fun along the way. They're the Games that shout to you in a full Weegie accent to get your head out ya arse.