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Life Behind Bars
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In the interest of full disclosure I have to admit that I’m not usually a big fan of sports bars. In my experience (particularly in major cities) they tend to be overblown in almost every conceivable way. They’re too big, too noisy, too chaotic and almost always way too expensive. During a trip to Atlanta last spring we met friends out at a sports bar roughly the size of Turner Field only with fewer bathrooms. We proceeded to spend a relaxing evening screaming trivia answers across the table at one another surrounded by giant banks of video monitors, attended by servers in the usual skimpy pseudo-referee uniforms. How original.
When Life Behind Bars first debuted we included a kind of sliding bar scale explained thusly: “Like the crew of comically dysfunctional regulars holding down the stools at Cheers, or the desperate gin-soaked refugees from a world gone mad at Rick’s in Casablanca, sometimes you want to go where everyone knows your name - or no one does. Or maybe some do and some don’t. Some places are more Cheers than Rick’s and visa versa while some are a bit of both.” I’m invoking this scale once again, although something tells me this time there may be changes.
Vintage. That’s definitely the vibe here. The place feels like a beach house resurrected from a family vacation of the long, long ago days of wood paneled station wagons packed to the roof with a summer’s worth of promise. Right through the door there’s a classic feel, a definite island vibe but without the usual kitschy accoutrements, just a few well-placed, well-chosen touches, as if left by a succession of summer visitors. An old camera and super-8 projector adorn a side table.
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Copyright Lowcountry Weekly
Site Designed and Maintained by Vision Technology Management
Site Designed and Maintained by Vision Technology Management