October 24, 2004

• I used to go have a "local" called Finnegans Wake. It was nice. It contributed to my feeling more rooted, more part of a real community (my old neighborhood of Cole Valley in San Francisco) than I'd ever felt in my peripatetic adult life. I haven't left San Francisco, but I haven't felt as much a part of a neighborhood since I left that one. I think it's at least partly because I haven't found myself another "local" since. Plus, it's nice to get served quickly when there's a crowd jostling to get the bartender's attention.
• I don't really have a local, if I did, I would be drunk even more often than I actually am. However, the folks at the liquor store know me pretty well.
• When I used to drink I had a local, where everyone knew me as *Sarge*. I had quite a bit of fun there, until the building collapsed. Now that was freaky. It was an old building, well old for USA buildings anyway. The place was packed the night the building fell. After the bar closed for the night, we regulars were across the street in the parking lot deciding where the after hours party was to be. We heard this loud rumble looked over and saw *Oggie* running from the back of the bar with only a sheet flapping around him, yelling *Earthquake*. Then the building collapsed. *Oggie* had an apartment above the bar. Thankfully no one was hurt, but it trashed several vehicles that were parked in front of the bar.
• *sob* I miss my teahouse!
• Yeah, but mine is a hamburger stand. She knows my name, what my order is, wants to know how I am doing, how my ex-girlfriend is, etc...
• Cafe Trieste in San Francisco. I drop in for a macchiato to go everymorning, and have a tea or glass of wine everynight. My son is also a big fan of chewing/slobbering on their paper plates, cups, bagels, spoons, etc. It is a place with plenty of regulars who have developed a community of sorts. If I am looking for somebody in the neighborhood I pass by Trieste first to see if they are there; it's common to leave notes or packages for regulars at the counter which will (eventually) be passed on by the staff. On a good night, people will congregate outside on the sidewalk and spend most of the night, drinking, talking, playing music, drawing, writing, etc. It is the closest thing in SF to real European cafe-culture. People watching galore. Some of the guys who work there love to play with my son. Often times when my wife and I show up in the evening, Rabba will take his break and come over and play with Austin, giving us a nice break from parenting for a few moments. A very special place.
• The worst part about places where "everybody knows your name" is how some of them can feel when you're not part of the "everybody" crowd. Being a visitor, tourist, or new arrival to the area can be a less than pleasant experience.
• When I lived in New Jersey, we spent several vacations in Mystic Connecticut. There was a cafe/bar there called The Drawbridge Inn which was a "local" for the locals but was very hospitable to us. Small and dimly lighted,great food, live music (mostly jazz and 1940s ballad types, and not too loud for the size of the place), servers who remembered what drink you ordered last time, even if you hadn't been there for 6 months, and locals who enjoyed chatting with you if you were of a mind. I really miss it.
• I have one. I almost live there. My wife and kids actually do live there. We call it "home".
• I don't have a local to call my own either, but like Nostril the guy at the liquor store knows me pretty well.
• It sounds like I missed out when I lived in San Francisco a few years back. My local was on 9th just north of Mission. Can't remember the name of it but it was named numerically for the address. Not what I would call a friendly place, especially at night, but the guy who brought his huge cockatiel in for drinks was always fun. A very aggressive bird strolling down the bar made for some priceless reactions from irregulars. I do miss that town.
• Ironic thing is that, as anyone who's been there can tell you, whatever that bar in Boston is that Cheers was modelled after is the polar opposite of a local. It's totally a tourist joint.
• My apartment is two floors up from a decent sports bar, so yeah I know everyone and they all know me. But, then, most places I go, my beer is poured for me before I sit down. You'd think this would be a good thing...
• I live in a town with two bars, and they both know me pretty well. When I was in University, I had a local that I frequented six nights a week. It had a big picture window in the front of the place and they'd see me walk past it on my way in. By the time I was in the front door my drink was waiting on the corner of the bar (my regular seat). I miss that place. I'm not an alcoholic...honest!!
• I live two blocks from a tiny brewpub in New Brighton, MN. It's called Barley John's. They have good food and kickass beer, and the whole staff knows me and my husband by sight if not by name, as well as our favorite beers. There are firepits out front, so you can sit in front of a fire on a crisp evening and talk for hours. There's a small garden out back, and you can order a salad and watch the cook go out to pick the ingredients. And if you go and it's availavle, try the Rosie's Ale. It's very very strong but incredibly smooth, more a barley wine than beer. mmmmmm.
• Before I moved to Nashville last year, my friends and I went out quite a lot. I had a couple of places that had my beer waiting when I came in. Like LordSludge, I think that tends to be less cool when it's said out loud. But on a busy evening like St. Patty's Day, when the bar is stacked ten deep, nothing feels better than to give a nod from across the room, slip past the people waiting and snatch your cold beer off the bar. Lovely, actually. However, I learned a very valuable lesson: never date your bartender. If it ends badly, you lose the bar.
• My local, a while back, was the Royal Canadian Legion hall in a tiny, isolated mining town up north. An RCL is kinda like a VFW (for the USians) or an RSL (for the Aussies), not sure what the equivalent is elsewhere. Aside from the hotel, it was the only spot in town. Cheap drinks, lotsa gossip and everyone knew your name (as well as what you did for a living, who you were fooling around with, your general philosophy of life and the results of your last medical checkup). Every once in a while, usually on a Friday night in the winter when it was 40 below and dark all day, half the town would gradually stumble in from the cold, take off their parkas and mukluks, buy a round and sit down at the ever expanding table. Eventually, the jukebox would be unplugged and a couple of guitars would start playing, then a fiddle or two. We would sing corny old country tunes, Newfie kitchen-party songs and sometimes make up our own. By midnight we were all howling at the moon, at the winter and at each other. 'Twas a wonderful time.
• I don't have a "local" since I'm not much of a drinker--too cheap and don't like the flavor, but when I go into the Flying Pie Pizza joint, the people behind the bar know that I'm the cheap broad that has ONE pint of Coors Lite-with-five-slices-of-lemon, while the two lushes with me will take buckets of whatever exotic brews are on tap.
• Long time ago. I always was a 'name' in a place called "Sis And Ron's" many years ago. I've always preferred little bars with open windows, CNN on mute, cool quiet, smooth wood stained with the patina of years and gruff, ancient bartenders who don't feel they have to chat you up, tell jokes, or make eye contact. A simple nod followed by the swift placing of my regular libation was both sufficient and accommodating. I don't think Ron actually ever knew my name (hence the single quotes above) but he knew my drink and left me alone. He did know I was a journo, and he would occasionally drop a well-thumbed copy of the day's New York Times within reach when available. Simple pleasures for simpler times.
• I have long mourned the passing of bars where conversation is allowed -- conversation that does not need to be shouted across the table. It seems every place has to have either loud music or a wall of frigging TVs. What happened to quiet, friendly neighborhood watering holes? We used to have one back home called the Shady Inn, an old-school bar with an old-school bartender named Hazel who knew how to pour a drink. They were a local institution, but a few years back they got squeezed out by the Devil's Minions (AKA Bass Pro). I still have a protest sticker on my car.
• I have two locals, both of which are diner-type breakfast places. One is Stacks, where they know my name and my order, and I get introduced to any new members of the staff. I think that is true for a lot of people who go to Stacks. They really go out of their way to be friendly. The other is Talk of Broadway, where they don't know my name, but feel free to toss obscure insults at me anyway. Which I like.
• most of the staff at my local coffee shop know me on sight. i'm there most days, mon-fri, at least once. they generally know my order before i get there - it's sometimes rung up already, or being prepared (if they're out when i walk in). the rare occasions that i don't bring my own cup in to use are noted with surprise - i think in the last three months i've forgotten my mug like once. (why throw away a cup when i have a perfectly good travel mug?) the nice thing about being a regular is that you get better service - extra shot of espresso here, "hold on a minute and i'll make some fresh" there. they know i always leave a tip, and they know i'll be back tomorrow...
• I live in one of those towns where everyone knows everyone. That can good and it can be bad. So, all of our bars are 'local'. On a good night, you bar-hop till you get to the most crowded one. On a shit night, do the opposite.