Thursday, April 9, 2009

The best/worst bar


Wiley asleep at This Bar




This isn’t too long, and its from like two months ago now. Anyway, I wanted to write about This Bar. I went there several times when I was out west visiting Wiley. This Bar (I’m obviously not using its real name) was, at the same time, my favorite bar in the East Bay and my least favorite bar ever.

Why did I like it? a), you could smoke indoors there. In fucking California. Unreal, and awesome. Also, the beer selection was not your average dive’s - the most mass-market product that they sold was Guinness. Plus, because my buddy William worked there some nights and my buddy Smurphy helped them close every night for the purpose of free wine, I never paid for a drink there. The rest of the staff was really cool as well. Some of the customers were as well. So, free beer, cool bartenders, some cool customers - what could the problem be?

The rest of the customers. I lived in Lawrence for 20 years, I hung out at the Tap Room occasionally, I thought I knew phonies. Oh no. To borrow a line, the phonies were coming in through the windows at This Bar. Upon walking into the smoking room one night, there was this British college kid - curly hair, ironic band T-shirt, corduroys, even a fucking tweed jacket. I shit you not. He was sitting on the armrest of a chair, legs crossed like a woman. To top all, he was holding a pipe, and said “It’s rather hard to get addicted to smoking a pipe” to whomever was listening - which amongst these phonies was everyone. On another night, I listened to a group of faux hippies talking about vegetables - like, where they buy them, boring trips they take into the country to buy specific organic veggies, this sort of thing - and it went on for twenty minutes!

I suppose this is what people talk about if they don’t follow sports.

Pic unrelated - psychedelic check-cashing joint on Haight Street, SF

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