Dive bar queen

A tribute to the liminal space of the Dive Bar…

If you ever want to conduct a fascinating study of the human condition, look no further than the dive bar. Throughout our dating history, my husband has taken me to some of the shittiest places imaginable. Probably to test me, no doubt. He sometimes forgets that I’m expensive looking on the outside, but deep down, I’m a cheap piece of trash like the rest of ‘em. And more than that, I’m a keen participant-observer of social realities. I love me a good dive bar night out.

I can’t help but find the ambiance charming in an unpretentious, lived in kind of way. Do I want to die a slow death in another chain restaurant over a kale salad and a $16 mojito while top 40

drivel plays out the speaker? Not a chance in hell, my friend.

I like everything about places like these. The grit and the weariness. The sticky-tables, torn upholstery, and lingering smell of tobacco from years past still clinging to the walls. The bathroom stalls filled with quirky graffiti and a light dusting of coke on the toilet paper dispensers, for good measure. The uncomplicated drinks. If you’re like me, you might even get a violent case of food poisoning from taking a risk and drinking a caesar made with room temperature Clamato juice. This particular incident occurred years ago in Trail, BC. But it rests with me just the same.

In any event, I still find myself drawn to shit holes and the hodgepodge of characters that come and go from them. It’s such an interesting milieu. The way people come and seamlessly unload their struggles from the outside world into this one place. I like the older patrons the most. The decades of lived experience etched into their unbeautiful faces, the real problems they’ve encountered and the way their eyes twinkle as they let go in a more relaxed environment. No matter where I am, I always seem to make a friend or two. I find the reciprocity in these interactions more authentic to life.

So I guess this currently alcohol abstinent pregnant lady is trying to say… long live the dive bar. May they always be around to provide a refuge for us all.