The Joy of a Bar Without TVs
When I lie on my deathbed, I probably won’t think, “I wish I’d spent more time looking at screens.”
We (yes, we, you know you’re guilty too) spend so much of our precious lives staring at screens, big and small. Our screen addiction is so pathological that even when we’re in the presence of a massive movie screen, we have to be told repeatedly to put away our puny pocket screens. So I have a particular love for bars that not only have the latest double IPA and barrel-aged stout, but no TVs. Bars like Chicago’s Hopleaf and Long Room are more than great beer bars. They’re an oasis from our screen-saturated world.
When there’s a TV around, it’s hard not to look at it, much as a dog can’t resist gawking at a person’s meal. Even if I hate the show, I can’t help looking, which makes me hate myself for being Pavlov’s dummy.
As we stare at screens like drooling zombies, we ignore the people around us, whether that’s a dear friend, a first date, a reliable colleague, or even an intriguing stranger who could become a future spouse or anecdote. Screen time steals human time. TV-free bars give it back. –Mark Peters
Pages:Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18Next
There’s a bar outside of Albany, the Man of Kent. The last time I was there, they had one television, a fairly small one, that I was told was just for major news and sports events. It’s up in the corner of the room. And behind sits the ashes of a former regular — I think his name was Horst? — who hated the television, but loved the Man of Kent, and asked to be “buried” there. They put him in the one place in the room where he wouldn’t have to look at the screen. I like that.
What a great story- stories like this sum up the real community of what a bar creates and breathes life into
Nice one, Lew. I recently saw an article about Anthony Bourdain where he basically bashes a lot of the craft beer environment; he spoke about walking into a craft beer bar and witnessing several people carefully drinking flights and making an “experience” out of it. His words: “”This is not a bar. This is f—ing Invasion of the Body Snatchers. This is wrong. This is not what a bar is about.”
I think the old idea of a “bar” is already well-known: a place where you watch the game as you work on quietly getting drunk, stewing in your thoughts.
While Bourdain may have a point, I would posit many craft beer bars are not these types of “bars.” You don’t go to see how many shots you can handle before browning out as you watch sports, you go to drink exquisite beer and connect with your friends around you.
I do appreciate that the craft beer bars and brewpubs are locally owned and so far I haven’t seen a lot of turnover in staff here in Dayton, O. It kind of makes your day to walk in and they know your name. Also as a local tour guide the owners are always willing to throw a t-shirt or two my way to give to one of my guests.
It’s a fickle thing that you can’t cater to all types. It really reflects on the establishment whether TV’s and disturbances are allowed. Several taprooms in Tulsa offer TV’s mainly for sports but American Solera is very minimalist with a community table and picnic benches outside in essence to bring community together. But knowing the brewers, it’s just their personality and experience they want to give their customers.