Whiskey and Donutholes

It was a cold winters night. El Presedente had ravaged the troops and caused enough pain and agony to even make a wookiee lose his cookies. The next morn, to the sound of happily sober and hangover-less suburbanite tourists woke the troops with their gleeful shouts of joy and excitement… a sentiment not shared by the troops.

After mustering every ounce of strength possible, the troops went forth unto the breach again.

Tally-ho to The Gay Bar!

The Gay Bar is exactly what you would not think it is. Located in Gay Michigan, the bar actually lacks anything that one could find in a gay bar. In fact, I would go so far as to say, a person of homosexual nature would not even step into such a place, for fear of being strung up, drawn and quartered.

Driving up to The Gay Bar, the road is lined with snowmobiles and trucks that eat cars like mine for bedtime snacks. After finding a front row parking spot, we don our gear and move in.

Walking in, it looks like every other county bar out there. Thirty year old brewerania on the wall, NASCAR and various sporting calendars on the wall, and of course… the patrons. The patrons are your stereotypical county bar patrons… quite friendly for the most part, sans the douchebag hicks that look like the want to get drunk and fight. One patron engaged us in conversation for a good hour or two, and amazingly, most of said conversation took place without the patron removing the cigarette from his lips. This is a skill you will never see from a prep, hipster, or suburbanite… only from good ol’ country folk.

With KBC and Coors Light for less than $3… how can you go wrong? Nothing else was ordered aside from KBC beer or Coors, however, prices overheard from the friendly barkeep sounded fairly reasonable for the drinks. The bar food looked like, well, bar food. None was ordered, however, which I highly regret since what I saw looked delicious.

For my first time in the U.P., I thoroughly enjoyed The Gay Bar. Next time I go to the U.P., I am going to make sure to take 12-inches at The Gay Bar.

Cheers!

Recently Don and I checked out The Dugout Bar, in Superior. We were feeling adventurous, and wanted to check out something new. At the same time, we knew at the end of 2008, our favorite bar (The Viking in Superior), would be disappearing. So we were looking for a replacement for The Viking. The Capri (affectionately known by us as “The Crap”) is too dude-errific to replace The Viking. The Anchor is too busy. The Belknap–as wonderful as it is–is also too busy and just doesn’t vibe the same as The Viking. What The Viking projects for an atmosphere can’t be captured by too many other establishments in the area. Except for The Dugout, we discovered.

The Dugout is a smallish bar, as long as an old brownstone building that inhabit Superior’s tower avenue, and about half as wide. It’s a simple bar. A pool table, two dart machines, an old juke box, and an ornate bar that is almost a throw back to the Speakeasy bars of yesteryear. There’s nothing elaborate about The Dugout: it’s simple layout and inadvertently-retro decor (Packer’s banners from the 80s, old beer lights, etc), and it’s terrific bartender, Forrest.

Forrest is just a regular guy. He’s the bartender you’d see in the movies that open in a bar. A friendly, down-to-earth guy who loves nothing more than to tell you a story and make you feel at ease for the night. At the same time, Forrest comes across as the guy that you don’t want to have to deal with should a fight or scuff break out. But that’s a non-issue when you take in the clientèle at The Dugout.

The patrons of The Dugout vary in all ages and walks of life. Young people, old people. Dock workers, clericals. But everyone of these people, no matter how incompatible in normal life, are here at The Dugout for one reason: to have a good time. This automatically makes the environment in The Dugout relaxed. Although when Don and I walked into The Dugout for the first time, it was one of those moments where the record scratches to a halt and everyone stops what they are doing to look up at you. After we ordered a beer from a non-caring Forrest, however, it was back to normal. And when we walked into The Dugout the second time–in all seriousness–no one even batted an eye. Forrest even remembered us:

“Hey, you guys are the guys that drank all our Coors Light and were here with those athletic trainers from Stillwater.”

“Actually, it was Mankato, Forrest, but incredible memory,” I replied.

“What?” said Forrest.

“Nothing, let’s drink,” I answered.

As Forrest got us our $2.50 cans of Coors Light, Don and I relived the story of our first visit to The Dugout with the athletic trainers from Mankato. I had recognized them from long ago when I frequented Mankato State University. Don and I were sitting by the door, backs to the wall. The two from Mankato walked in, and I recognized them. I said “hey guys, whats up” and they nodded–obviously not recognizing me. Before I could say anything else, one of the Mankato individuals started handing me his I.D. I looked at Don to see what was going on, and he was taken aback, but I knew what he would want me to do.

So I carded the kid.

I told him it was a fake I.D., because it was a Wisconsin license, and he obviously lived in Mankato. He looked extremely confused. Then I explained myself. Everyone busted out laughing–I wasnt’ really a bouncer–except for the two from Mankato. They went off and got drinks. A classic Dugout moment was hatched.

Getting back on track, prices at The Dugout seem reasonable as well. I believe it’s $2.50 for a can of Coors Light. You can leave the loose change for Forrest, but usually all he does is take it and put it towards a $10 or $15 collection for the jukebox, so people can just walk up and select whatever songs they want for free. A great idea, if you ask me, because you’ll hear one of the most motherfucking eclectic mix ever when this occurs. $10 of free songs in a juke with a mishmash of patrons makes for one helluva interesting night. From the club music, to screaming death metal, to Elvis and George Straight, it’s all on there. And Forrest doesn’t mind, either. He even says that some of the rap and “boom-thump” songs, as he calls them, are enjoyable to him.

I unfortunately have no other drink to draw a comparison in prices with at the Dugout, because all we drank there was Coors Light (until we drank them out the first time, in which we switched to Black Bullets). But knowing the cheap cost of Coors, and Forrest’s friendly and just-have-fun-here attitude, it can’t be very much.

The Dugout, we’ve deemed, is an excellent replacement for The Viking. While it will never be The Viking, it will fill the void that will be left at the end of the year. And The Dugout will create its own memories. Like the Mankato guys thinking I’m a bouncer, and me playing it off with Anthony Hopkins-esqe coolness. Or the time we went there after starting drinking at 3:30 in the afternoon. The Dugout will no doubt fill the void for bar comfortability and bar friendliness, and in good time, will become the stuff of legend that The Viking is and always will be.

That’s the State of the Bar for The Dugout.