my random thoughts

ok – so that was me.  the bar was the Pourhouse in Bushwick.  the realator tried to sell the neighborhood as Williamsburg – or East Williamsburg – but that’s bullshit.  third stop on the L and walk north.  not billyburg.  kristin and i were in the neighborhood to look at a new development.  i had time to kill so i figured i’d check out the local drinking establishments – a definite neighborhood category for us to consider.  no drinking establishment – major deduction on the neighborhood.

i’ve never been to East Williamsburg/Bushwick before.  i get off the train and walk around a bit.  find two bars near the apartment we are going to look at – the first is the blue lady lounge, which got great user reviews on citysearch and freewilliamsburg.com but really looked generic and “new”.  the second was closer to the apartment and looked like a dump.  really my kind of place.

so i walk up to the door and before i even open it everyone at the bar turns to look at me.  it’s a little nerve-wracking but i open the door anyway.  and the stares continue.  i’ve never been in this bar before.  i’m someone new.  new is not always good.  i close the door and most people look away – except for the guy nearest the door.  who tells me to make sure that the door is completely shut.  the cold gets to his old bones.  really – he’s only in his fifties and if he was cold he should have been sitting by the space heater, but i figured it not best to bring this up.  i smile.  say – sure, and give the door a good shove.  he turns back to the bar.

the place really is not much more on the inside as the outside.  it’s a dump.  it’s run down.  the floor boards are worn through.  it’s dark.  an old telephone booth – like a 50’s-London style – is in the back corner.  a few empty tables are shared with a few broken chairs.  but there’s no unusual smell that goes with this type of place – so things aren’t completely bad.

the only open seat at the bar is at the far end – by the space heater.  i settle in and the bar-tender – a young guy, you’d think a place like this would have a crusty old-sort who looks at you out of the corner of his eye – comes over.  he’s nice.  we exchange hellos – i order my beer and notice they have a ‘free hotdogs’ bin behind the counter.  i think of rudy’s and look away.  the bartender comes back with my beer and tells me it’s happy hour.  the beer is only $3.50.  brooklyn lager.  happy hour until nine.  things are looking up.  he returns to his dinner and i take a look around the place.

really – it’s not that bad.  sure – it’s a dump.  but really, it’s the perfect place that jared and i were always searching for.  the taps are right on.  the beer is cheap.  and there’s a pinball machine.  no women – and i doubt there’d be any coming in the door, but that’s ok because we are married now.  so maybe this is our retirement home.

i make my way over to the pinball machine.  sitting near the space heater is getting to me and the machine is open.  which isn’t surprising as the only person in the place who’s elbows are not on the bar is sitting at the ms. pacman game.  and i’m pretty sure he’s stoned so the flashing lights of the pinball machine might be too much.

the machine is a Soprano’s theme – and it’s right on.  the action is near perfect.  the flippers work.  and the board seems level.  this place is getting better and better.  maybe jared and i should retire here.  games are only 50 cents and you get 5 plays for $3.  no match though – which i always take to be a cheat.

i play three games – usual fashion, great first game/sucky second/average third – something about when you play a machine the first time.  maybe you’re just not thinking about it. 

i finish the beer and have to leave to meet kristin.  i leave the empty on the bar – no one notices.  i walk to the door.  no one notices.  i leave – no one notices. 

really kinda my type of place.