The younger Secret had a double ear infection this weekend (two! two infections in one!!), so we stayed close to home. On Saturday afternoon I couldn’t take it anymore, and told Toney I was going to walk to the dive bar.
She was trying to get something done on her computer, and seemed to like to the idea just fine: “Yes, go. Go to the dive bar,” she said.
Well!
It was a beautiful day, and the bar is about a mile from our house. The weather was very football-season, and it smelled like half the town had fireplaces going, or fire pits, or other things that produce great-smelling smoke. Fall puts me a good mood… plus, there was draft beer in the near future.
I probably hadn’t been to that dump in more than a year. Toney absolutely refuses to set foot inside, because it looks like the kind of place you’d go if you had a hankering for a knife fight. But it’s not nearly as bad as it appears from the street. I don’t think.
I walked through the battered screen door, and every head ratcheted to the left, to see if it was someone they knew. Disappointed, they all turned back to the three or four TVs hanging above the bar. They had the volume turned up on one of the football games they were watching, but other than that… it was completely silent in there.
“Lager,” I told the bartender.
“Bottle or draft?”
“Draft.”
“Two fifty,” he said.
Lager, of course, is northeastern Pennsylvania shorthand for Yuengling. Nobody calls it “Yuengling,” it’s simply “lager.”
I took a look around. I’ve always referred to the place as a dive bar, but might have to amend my descriptor. Check it out. It’s certainly a dive, but old man bar might be more accurate. I felt like a young whipper-snapper sitting in there.
I don’t think the guy beside me ever took a drink of his beer. He was there when I arrived, and he was there when I left, with the same amount of beer in his glass. Never spoke a word to anyone. The man beside him was completely mute, as well. Oh, it was one raucous bunch.
I noticed there were ashtrays there, even though it’s against the law to smoke in bars and restaurants. Whatever. And here’s their lineup of draft beers: Budweiser, Bud Light, Miller Lite, Coors Light, and Yuengling Lager.
In the old days they always had one microbrew, usually Victory Hop Devil, but apparently that didn’t go over very well…
I sat there and nursed my beer, exchanged a few text messages with Metten, and a morbidly obese gentleman eventually arrived and livened up the joint. He was probably in his early 30s, and was excessively invested in one of the football games. He sat down in the middle of the bar, and started hollering at the TVs on the wall.
“Ohhhh my gooooood! What’s the matter wit’ you?? You had it right in your haaaaaaands!!”
I found it interesting that a man who probably has to use a rag and wooden spoon to wash his own ass, thought it was appropriate to criticize world class athletes. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he had to stop for a rest, between his car and the barstool.
I had three beers, while soaking up the ambience of the place (and when I say ambience, I mean cigarette smoke and Lectric Shave), and left my standard tip on the bar: one dollar for each beer consumed. It seemed like a lot, under the circumstances, but I’m governed by a certain set of rules. What do you think? Did I over-tip?
While walking home I had to use the bathroom — right now. I very seriously considered going up into the woods, and just letting it go; my clothing seemed to be designed for such endeavors. But then I saw a port-o-potty, beside a youth soccer field.
The gods of waste elimination were smiling on me!
And while in that phone booth of unspeakable funk, I started thinking about all the different names I’ve heard people use to describe those things. Just recently I heard another one: Job Johnny. What have you heard them called? It seems like everybody has a different name for ’em.
I’ll leave you now with a question from the Stealing Clive Bull‘s Topics desk. It’s loosely related to today’s update… very loosely.
Recently Clive asked his callers to tell him where they live, roughly, and whether or not they’d feel comfortable walking around their neighborhood alone, at midnight.
I would, because we live in a full-on Leave it to Beaver town. In fact, the only place I’ve ever lived where I WOULDN’T have felt comfortable walking around alone at midnight, was an apartment in Atlanta. It was a place on Bonaventure Avenue, a few doors down from the notorious shithole “residence hotel,” the Clermont. When the sun went down there, it became an iffy proposition…
What about you? How would you answer Clive’s question?
And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.
Have a great day!
Woohoo! Made it in at the top!
Dammit it all to hell!
See what you get for actually reading the update first?
3rd! Woohoo!
I am an early poster on this particular day!
Shit! 4th…and 5th
Third, that’s what you get.
Okay, top ten and I’m satisfiiiiieeed.
My neighborhood is 25 houses in a circular street that is one way in, one way out. I would walk around here at any time of night – it is the very definition of safe. We don’t even lock our doors much. Because it is woodsy, most people don’t even know we exist, even though we are near a major bypass and only 2 mile from the town center.
And we all get along very well – can you imagine a Resident Association with voluntary dues of $50/year, voluntary meetings, and no hassles? Some places around here won’t let you paint your house any color other than white.
I bet Tony could take any of those guys in a knife fight.
Got to love a good dive bar! 50 cents a beer would have been fine, IMO.
It’s safe in my little hometown to walk about at any time day or night. I never lock the doors to the house or take the keys out of the car even if head out for an extended period of time.
No prob walking around my neighborhood at midnight. The only incident we ever had was a guy getting shot in front of my house. Now, how could I possibly refer to my neighborhood as “safe” while simultaneously stating that someone got gunned down on my street? It was not random violence. The woman across the street kicked her crazy husband out of the house. Less than a month later, she was shacking up with another man. One morning her new man was leaving the house. Estranged (and strange) husband and him get into an argument, husband pulls gun and shoots him. So the only violence in my neighborhood that I have ever seen is related to a lovers quarrel between armed idiots, which can happen in almost any neighborhood. No fear of muggings, gangs, etc. in these here parts.
Nothing but cows in my hood. Bovine knife fights are unheard of around here.
It is not safe to walk around outside at midnight. At that hour, you should be in your darkened homes clutching a firearm and praying. Glenn Beck just thought all of you should know that.
Although I haven’t been to the “Dive Bar” in about 8 years, it was one of my favorite places in that town. The best thing was going in on a sunny Saturday afternoon, and since there’s no windows in the place, completely losing track of time. I don’t know about now, but they had a great jukebox, a pooltable, and a shuffle bowling machine. No matter how crowded it got on a Friday or Saturday night, I never saw a fight or other problem.
Hahaha….thanks, Lee Harvey.
I went to a bar last night that was filled with people half my age. About an hour into it a guy walked up and told me that he was going to teach me to bowl on an arcade game thingy. It had a round ball that you rolled your hand over to position the ball then you had to (apparently) send your hand forward in a very dramatic and absurd way to send the ball down the lane. I kept getting strikes but he kept getting mad at me because I wouldn’t send my arm into the screen like I was in the flying Superman position or something, “No Goddammit. You have to lean into it and twist it at the end. Like a curve ball.”
I stood there and “bowled” for the better part of 2 hours before he finally fell down from drunkenness. As I was heading for the door he raised up his head and said, “It’s your turn, goddammit.” He was right. He got up off the floor (literally) and we bowled for another 30 minutes or so.
I’m comfortable walking around in my neighborhood. My wife and kids walk all the time, I’ve started walking with them in an effort to change my pear shaped body into something that might pass at the beach. I’m going to be walking for a long time, I can tell you that.
Good Afternoon Surf Reporters…..
I used to be a big Fall fanatic, but in the past few years, not so much. It only means we’re rapidly approaching the Holidays and the clinically depressing state of Western PA weather, which consists of 5 months of no sun, damp grayness and brass monkey balls cold. Funk ‘dat.
Names for the mobile piss catcher – always were referred to as a “Port-O-John”, and I’ve heard them called a “Port-O-Let”. Can anyone here honestly answer that they’ve actually take a dump in one of those? Aw hell no, I think I’d rather shit myself than make contact with my ass checks on that germ infested seat. No freakin’ way.
To close out the categories, my hometown is about the only one in the area where it would be safe to be walking around after dark. While this area outside of Pittsburgh couldn’t really be described as “urban”, there are several neighborhoods were gunfire, stabbings, beatings and rapes are a nightly occurrence.
A few comments:
1. A couple of years ago Budweiser started advertising itself as “the great American lager,” or something like that; and I’ve always though it was because in eastern Pennsylvania and New Jersey it was becoming commonplace to refer to Yuengling Lager as simply “Lager,” and A-B wanted to try to nip that practice in the “bud” (so to speak), before it became too commonplace.
2. I believe the current standard tip is, in fact, one dollar per drink served (given that dollars are virtually worthless these days). So I do believe you left the correct amount of tip. (I bet the old codgers at the bar are still living in 1974, and leave a quarter per drink. So I’m sure the bartender appreciates your more realistic view of things.) However, in most places, a drink (whether it be a mixed drink or a pint of good beer) costs at least four bucks. So to leave a dollar as a tip for a $2.50 draft might be a bit high. But still, it wasn’t outrageous, and I’m sure the barkeep will remember your generosity.
3. I think in PA, if a bar serves no food (other than perhaps bags of chips and sticks of Slim Jim), they are allowed to apply for (and be granted) an exemption to the no-smoking law. Something along those lines, anyway.
4. A rag and a wooden spoon…I’m trying to picture how that would work…Hmmm…. Well, now that I think about it, perhaps it’s best that I don’t try to picture it.
Oh, and to answer Jeff’s question:
No, I would not feel safe walking alone at midnight where I live, only because I’m a woman. It seems to be a safe, residential neighborhood, but I’d rather not risk it.
Good one Lee Harvey Ramone. I think Glen Beck also said that someone gets mugged every 30 seconds in America. So every 30 seconds I put my finger on the pepper spray trigger and look around real fast to make sure it’s not my turn. It’s ruining my life. I wish I’d get mugged already so I wouldn’t have to worry about it.
My neighborhood is nice and very family oriented. There use to be people who would be out walking all hours of the night. However about a year ago, some drifter was walking down the road, and randomly just cut some woman’s throat who was sitting on her own deck.
Since that happened, less people are out walking when it’s late at night, and frankly by 10pm, I’m usually inside for the night.
I live in the city limits of Sarasota, but in a sort of off the beaten path section. Nearly everyone in my neighborhood is more than seventy years old. I let my kids play in the street, since no one passes through this neighborhood, unless they live there. My wife walks at night, sometimes joined by me, and there is no problem, unless Myrna Rosenfel forgot to close her curtains while she walks around in her living room after the evening shower. Perhaps the safest neighborhood I have ever lived in.
When we were kids, we called those CADLES, since that was the name printed on them.
On IPOD right now- “”Brain Damage”- Green Day
And I forgot to address the question of the day:
5. Yes, I would feel totally comfortable walking around my neighborhood at midnight.
Port-O-Potty
I should–I live about half a block from the Police and Fire Department in my little podunk town and the Post Office is directly across the street. Whole area is lit up like a sum bitch at night. Can be a little noisy, though, what with all the sirens and peel-outs at top speed by the po-po.
JCIII-Having spent the first 12 years post high school working construction, port-a-johns were just part of life, but that didn’t keep me from having Jeff Kay like streak for not shitting at work. It all ended one August day, ninety degrees and 90% humidity, lunch didn’t agree with me and I was left with two options and shitting myself didn’t really seem all that reasonable. And you are correct it was a nasty experience.
Oh and by the way how did you hit’em on your mini golf vacation?
Used to go to a dive bar conveniently located across the street from the office I worked in. Downtown San Francisco in the financial district, but the “clientele” looked very similar. The bar owner, the bartender, my friend and I were usually the only women in the place, except for Thursday afternoons, when this dive also hosted lingerie shows featuring local “ladies” who got paid to parade around in way-too-small outfits with their fleshy goods peeking out. There were free drawings where the winner could choose one of the outfits on display (skanky girl not included), or a beer of your choice. I always chose the beer. The ambiance was great — anonymity, no pretense, no drunken jackass hitting on me (just old guys who wanted to chit-chat now and then), no worries about running into people from my office on the days I was having a liquid lunch because setting foot in such a dive was beneath them. And the beer was good and cheap. It was our dirty little secret.
Job Johnny is very Tunkhannock. 🙂
Austin TX and I have no problem walking in my neighborhood at night. How else am I supposed to get home from the bar?
~WB in OH
not too bad! 2 of the 3 courses were extremely nice. Tough but fair. My 18 hole scores were 96, 90 and 92. We played 3 man teams and I won money(1st place on Fri. & 3rd place on Sat)
So it was really a great time and am already looking forward to next year.
The Hazmat Hut. Or the CDC Grow Lab. That’s what we call portable toilets.
My neighborhood is fairly safe — on the “right” side of town, near the golf course and the retirement community. I’d feel safe walking around after midnight, though I wouldn’t stroll down the unlit bike path next to the creek across the street from my house at that hour. I envision the delinquents from the “wrong” side of town congregating there before they split up to go burglarize the unsuspecting retirees. Why press my luck. If something ever happened to me, my brother would be the first to say, “Well, that’s just natural selection. What the hell were you thinking, dumbass?”
In PA Smoking in allowed in bars that applied for the exemption; serve mostly alcohol (not food) and allow only 21 & overs in.
here’s a link for all 66 counties
http://www.dsf.health.state.pa.us/health/cwp/view.asp?A=174&Q=251758
Vicki just reminded me of something. I live in a safe area, but I am subjected to lots of sirens when the ambulances come to retrieve old people from the retirement community (and maybe a few fools who over-do it on the golf course). A subtle reminder of mortality. My mother lives near the hospital and gets to hear not only the ambulances, but also the Life Flight helicopters, which used to really bother me when I was a kid because you knew things weren’t looking too good for someone.
I always tip a buck a drink, too, Jeff. I think that’s about right.
I live in the Upper Haight (Haight Ashbury) district of San Francisco – have for 22 years. While this ‘hood has seen it’s ups and downs (we had a time about 10 years ago where there was a lot of crack and meth around-that was scary, but no more. thank Dog) on the whole, I’ve always felt pretty safe here. I’m a 5 foot tall, 115 lb woman and have walked alone at midnight or later many, many times over the years (usually intoxicated and coming home from the bar) and now that I’m usually walking with a 130 lb dog, I feel extra safe.
Happy Monday, Surfers!
Hey, Brynhildr – which dive in the Financial District (or the FiDi and the douchebags now call it…)?
~ Brynhildr
My mom is a retired Operating Room RN. She says they called Life Flight ‘copters the “Death Bird”. If you needed to ride one into Pittsburgh, chances were real good you weren’t going to make it.
I live across the river from the Dunbar Murphy Mart, or what used to be MM. Walking around at midnight is never an issue when you have a pistol in yer pocket. I do not go looking for trouble and to date have been fortunate but it is comforting to have the protection.
Smoking should be allowed in bars, it’s silly to be able to get shitfaced but no smoking.
Porta-Johns – I was working the Fisher Ridge wine tasting boof at the Morgantown Wine and Jazz Fest a couple of years ago and saw a very drunk woman stumble out of a fiberglass shitter holding a checkbook that was dripping dark blue liquid. Priceless hilarity!
Speaking of priceless hilarity:
“…a man who probably has to use a rag and wooden spoon to wash his own ass…”
$2.50 for a beer?! I wish it was that low around here…even macro swill is more expensive that that. $1 a beer is on par for a tip.
I live in a quiet neighborhood where I feel totally safe walking around 24/7. The only crime relates to teenage jackassery, and even that’s minor. There’s a lot of families and no tolerance for crime.
proper tip. well done.
My dive bar has $1.75 pints for macro swill (I’m going to steal this on Jorge) everyday, $5 PBR pitchers on Thursday night, not a lot to do around here but at least the beer prices are reasonable. I about go into shock if I go to a professional sporting event and pay $7.50 for a beer, well at least for the first one, by the fifth or sixth the shock is replaced by the sweet numbing effect of the alchohol.
Knucklehead — it’s the Sutter Station, near the corner of Sutter and Sansome. We called it the “Sutter Gutter”, or just “The Gutter” for short. If you’ve never been there, you must give it a try. On a Thursday afternoon. Bring hand sanitizer and make sure your hepatitis vaccinations are up-to-date. I hear they now have free WiFi.
I live out in the country so I feel safe anytime. There are a lot of drunk drivers at night around my house so I’d stay out of the road. Our local counrty pubs usualy have $1.75 drafts. Right now you can get a 22oz. Draft of Sam Adams Cherry Wheat for $2.50. I’ve seen that go for up to $5.00 for a pint at a snooty bar.
Porta Potties = Honey Bucket
It’s save to walk around my neighborhood at midnite. Oh, except for the bears…and cougars…..
Johnny on the Spot. Real company! I always thought that clever.
Most of you know where I live so midnight is the big animals feeding time around here, if they’re about. No neighborhood. Nearest folks are two hundred yards away. I walk a lot during the day.
We used to go to a dive bar where we lived. Cool place. I called it “Geezer’s”. Good old fashioned, bullshitin’ bar flies. White haired old guys and red headed old ladies. Just folks. Your tipping seems right in line considering you’re drinking the high end stuff and they have have to wash a glass instead of pop-a-top or toss a cap.
Testing…one…two. This thing on?
Can’t figure out why the blue DTO letters aren’t working? Maybe now. Then…I give up!
Portapotty is the most common. Portolets and portajohns coming in close.
I’ve got no issues walking around the neighbourhood overnight.
What, no pictures of the morbidly obese guy?
I may be cheap, but you guys are out of your mind giving somebody a dollar per beer. What are you personally trying to make up for all of the A-Rods that stiff the bartender? Yes I know they work long hours on their feet, blah, blah blah… I start a tab, tip 15% at the end of the night rounded up to the nearest dollar. That’s better commission than the highest paid salesmen in the U.S. make, and 90% of their customers walk away without spending a dime. You guys are crazy paying somebody $1.00 to lift a bottle opener and hand you a bottle and a cup.
I agree with JR in Sammamish. Those outdoor toilets are called “Honey Buckets” in our area.
I live in a city that the F.B.I. use to call “the most dangerous city in the state of Washington”. That’s right, I’m talking about Tacoma. It is approx. 30 miles south of Seattle, thus my username. We had a bad gang problem, 10 or 20 years ago. An area of the town called “Hilltop” will never be able to live down it’s reputation as being very dangerous, day or night! Not so bad now, but at night you’ll still see a certain type of people hanging around on street corners past midnight. You don’t make eye contact with them, just keep driving or they will try to flag you down, hoping you’ll stop and buy whatever they’re selling…or wanting to buy. However, in my neighborhood it is quiet and safe to walk around at midnight.