Reclaim The Bar!

There still exists a romanticized version of The Bar, one whose sparse patrons restrain rich histories with liquor and silence. But by the aid of free rounds and a free ear, those histories spill. The romanticized bar is a smoky place of bonds melded by story.

It has been my experience that more often the romantic bar mirage gives way to a sad reality, one of loud, obnoxious chatter with radio-friendly (re: conversationally-unfriendly) music pumped in to dilute any intellectual connection in favor of the visual/physical. Here, women dress as disco balls in hopes of MySpace photo ops. The real bar is a smokeless place of subverted and repressed stories.

This isn’t a case of Norman Rockwell nostalgia; it cannot be. I am not ready to quit the dream.

How to make a bar better, while maintaining profit (warning: to make this happen, compromises have been made):

1. The jukebox

Perfection: If a song has the words booty, bling, cowboy, ass (in a sexual conquest sense) or is by Nickelback, remove it from the jukebox.

Compromise: Turn the music down a smidge. The relatively recent introduction of internet-abled jukeboxes satisfies my need for bar-perfect spots like Waits, Cave, Boxcar Saints, and Bauhaus…yes, Bauhaus. So, if the trash is quieter, then maybe the sensible among us can talk over it.

2. More jukebox

Perfection: free jukebox! Give out a song token with each drink purchased, thereby rewarding those who buy a lot of the bar’s product.

Compromise: Lower the prices of the internet-abled jukebox songs. Or at least, allow each purchased song to remain in the jukebox harddrive, so that subsequent purchases are done at the standard song rate. I understand this restriction may be a song rights issue. If so, simply lowering the prices will do just fine.

3. Books n’ such

Perfection: Book up the place. There’s a bar in north Kansas City, Mickey’s, I think it is, that has walls filled with books. I suffered a New Year’s Eve there once, and spent the night coveting a bound collection of Camus writings that sat imprisoned behind crepe paper streamers and balloons, slowly deflating, as was I. All I wanted was to silence the crowd and free the book. I would have purchased liters of beer to do so.

Compromise: Sell the books. Sell more than just beer and shitty food. Sell coffee. Sell cigars.

4. Smokeable

Perfection: Let people smoke. I’m not a smoker – aside from a cigar here and there – but I love smokers. There’s an implied social need with smokers, a personality befitting conversation. Now, I understand smoking bans have all but extinguished indoor smoking. But like with most good things, there are loopholes available. A place near me, The Keyhole, has claimed a “club” status, and charges “members” a nominal membership fee ($1 per year, or something amazing like that). Once equipped with the club designation, patrons are free to smoke away. If you don’t want to be around smoke, don’t go/work there. Simple.

Compromise: Divide the establishment into smoking and non-smoking sections, or have smoking and non-smoking hours/days. I’d be interested to see this happen on a small scale as a test for possible wider adoption. Do the patrons/workers like/dislike the set-up? Are the shifts confusing to patrons? What is the profit difference between times of smoke and times of ban.

Who’s with me?