A Town With No Bar

Sounds kinda like a bad horror movie don’t it?

Well that’s where I live.

The town is called Takoma Park, Maryland. It’s not a bad town I suppose — but Bad is a relative term when it comes to describing towns around here.

Let me tell you: There are some bad suburban towns strewn about our nation’s capitol. I work part-time in one of them; in a town called Gaithersburg. I know the town is called Gaithersburg because the bus I ride there goes under a highway overpass with a big sign hung on it that says Welcome To Gaithersburg. Otherwise there would be no way to know whether I worked in Gaithersburg, or neighboring Durwood, or neighboring Germantown. They look exactly the same. One long strip mall gone off in all 4 directions for endless miles. Where the strip malls end the endless rows of McMansions begin; endless rows of McMansions broken only by the occasional abandoned field full of half built mcMansions.

And then another half-out of business strip mall.

I call that part of Maryland the McWasteland.

Takoma Park is a bit better. It is DC’s original bedroom community, built back when it was fashionable for every house in a neighborhood to not look the same. My house is one mile from the DC city line. A 20-minute walk to the Metro. From there it’s 10 minutes to Union Station — a 10-minute walk from there to the US Capitol.

I live in a well-located spot.

The town has an enlightened element. There is a food co op; an independently owned coffee shop (no Starbucks); and until very recently a slew of “Impeach Them Both!” signs propped up on many front lawns.

While Takoma Park is charged leftward politically, it is far from proletariat. No working class heroes where I live — only me.

I was at a Phil Lesh concert last fall. Chatting it up over beer with some dude during set break, talking about the old days. Dude asked me where I lived.

“Takoma Park.” I answered.

“Oh.” My new friend rolled his eyes & goes, “Well la te fucking dah!”

Takoma Park, it turns out, is a notoriously well heeled community.

Consider that 3 houses on my street went up for sale in the past few months; the worst few months to sell a home since the Great Depression. Yet all 3 sold within weeks for the asking price. Housing bust? Recession? Shit — I build houses in Takoma Park for a living.

The town has its’ attributes, however flimsy. Fuck it. I live here now. Done worse; a thought which rarely escapes me.

But where is a jerk like me supposed to go after work for a drink?

Well. Why not pop into the Local, as it were, whatever bar is closest? Like I used to do back home. Even though I was homeless there half my life…it’ll always be Back Home to me. Or not? Well. They say you Can’t Go Home Again. Maybe so? But you can always go to the Bar.

Tell you a story about that Bar back home.

Once on Saturday afternoon years ago I rustled up a couple cute chicks to bring to the Bar with me. It was too early to drink, they complained, but I peer pressured them with great of skill & ease & waltzed into the Bar thus accompanied.

The bartender’s name was Saturday Steve. Sat. Steve has worked at the Bar every Saturday I think since the advent of liquor.

Saturday Steve at the Bar is a Friend Of Mine; best bartender west of Pluto.

“Ladies!” He exclaimed.

We sauntered to the bar.  Sattty Steve added, with smart-ass nonchalance,   “Um hey, ah,” He stammers & feigns like he can barely remember my name, “Oh right — Mike E — didn’t even see you come in.”

“You lie.” I demanded. “You looked straight at me & what you saw made you fall down!”

Steve grinned widely.

“You got it like that some days Mike E.”

You know right at that moment — yeah hay. It was good to be Mike E.

Saturday Steve pointed one finger skyward & shot up his eyebrow inquisitively.

Then Saturday Steve pointed his finger down.

Thus he posed the Question. Had I pointed down in response he would have cheerily poured me a beer.

I half-shrugged my shoulder. Disinterestedly strained one eye & grimaced slightly.

Eh.

Steve smiled luciferally & pointed his finger up again.

Oh Yeah? He wanted to know.

I pointed my own finger skyward & nodded buoyantly. Oh Yeah Buddy! I caught his eye & winked once with each of mine; one wink for each girl next to me.

I held up 3 fingers.

“3 Mike E Ritas it is!” Steve responded snappily.

He whipped them up in tequila-laced pint glasses & served us moments later. And though he knew I was doubtlessly penniless Satty Steve waved both my lady friends’ money away – as if to say don’t be ridiculous.

“These are on Mike e.”

Where else does that happen besides your hometown Bar?

Not around here. Takoma Park idiotically has no bar — this town sucks dog shit for breakfast.

Flimsy attributes obliterated. A town with no bar is like a stolen Cadillac convertible with no swimming pool to drive it into — senseless.

What kind of town has no bar? They are by law allowed to sell beer, wine & spirits here. A couple of food businesses do. But no business is dedicated solely to the craft of drunks & drink.

The free market system fails grimly yet again.

I’d ask: do these people not drink? But the question is stupid. Of course many of them — thousands — do. But where?

I’m required to leave this city of 20,000, where I live & work, and go find a bar in a neighboring town; where no one knows your name. It’s dehumanizing. AND metro service stops 2 hours before the bars close. That is downright inhumane.

And horrific for the local economy! A neighboring municipality pockets a nickel coin every time a Takoma Park resident buys beverages at one of their bars. In a moderately busy bar those nickels could bloom  into a yearly quarter-mil shoveled into town coffers. Booze is recession resistant. Bars employ people. Stimulate the freaking economy. HELLO??

Even a Sober Person could see that — and Sober People are stupid!

But this thing runs deeper than economics. It’s a human thing.  Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name! Somewhere faithful & FUN & forgiving & above all close to home. It is our reward; to fill our highest human need for Community; exercise our constitutionally enshrined Right to Pursue  Happiness;  for freedom’s sake Let Freedom Ring..

Pop in for a few after work! Do it for God & Country. Never forget that Our Forefathers fought & died for  our right to have a neighborhood bar.

Viva the Troops!

Viva!!

And if Takoma Park will not honor their sacrifice by opening a bar, well…

See ya!!

The town is uninhabitable. Now if I could only afford to leave…