to drink, perchance to...well, drink

last night we went to a rockin' little watering hole in the hoodie and blazer saturated area of Toronto also known as the Annex. i do love me some good drink and good company and the latter was amply supplied (thanks PJ and DVD - thankfully there were no nasty Nalgene attack incidents to report as a result of our merriment) but i do have several questions for this particular establishment as to the former. it's sole raison d'etre is, to the best of my knowledge after extensive research on the subject, to serve booze and food to journal writing literary exhibitionists and other urban creatures but - they just don't seem that into it.

to illustrate my point, let's go down a checklist of what is reasonable to find in a 'bar' (in descending order of importance) and how many of these things this particular place provides at least on a semi-regular basis. then we must address the perplexing question of why the fuck i still go there - all the time. so - first things first:

1. Beer or libations of consumer's choice. As a bar, this is not a negiotiable standard. Definitely, a bar must serve alcohol and my bar does in fact do so. So we're starting out on a good note. However....

2. That the bar has alcohol behind the counter does not necessarily imply that the consumer has alcohol in her hand. The 'service' element of bar service is what brings it all together...and where my bar just starts to fall apart. A neglected client feels deeply the pang of a poetic water, water everywhere but not a drop to fall into my parched mouth while I am watching three or more service staff behind the bar dancing to the incredibly annoying music that they have just cranked up EVEN LOUDER. Beer must be in belly to really be living up to beer's true potential. The service staff at my bar are negligent in their care of beer. And that is what makes me start to get sad.

3. Bathrooms. One needs an evacuatory site when one is finished with the beer in the belly. I think it was Homer who said 'You don't buy beer - you rent it.' My bar HAS bathrooms and that's good. Their bathrooms are scary though and that's bad. Not too long ago on a busy weekend evening, all females were diverted with a vague and ambigious arrow accompanied by a physical blockade from their customary and familar toilets to the strange and slightly nasty site of their male counterparts. Due to flooding. Which makes me want to puke, thinking about it. Yum. Your bathroom is rejecting its contents? Onto the floor? And you're still open for business. Awesome. Sure, I would like an order of nachos...thanks! Baaaaaaaaaaaarf. I don't like urinals at the best of times because a) I don't understand the etiquette and b) hate being excluded from things that look kind of fun just because of random genital assignment. So bathrooms are technically proficient but then again, so is a hole in the ground.

4. Atmosphere. This is a contentious standard, yes but I argue that a bar must have it to be a bar. And my bar? If you equate atmosphere with Attitude or Apathy, then yes. Truckloads. Actually, I'm being unfair. My bar has lots of atmosphere. It's just not entirely pleasant. Sometimes I feel like I might die of benign neglect before I get my Amsterdam Blonde pint or perhaps my eardrums will revolt and kill my entire body with their accumulated aural poisoning delivered in the form of LOUD screeching that may at one point have sounded like music but now just sounds like a call to war - for walruses. Atmosphere - you got it, baby. With flying fucking colours.

In review: my bar meets approximately 2.5 of the 4 standards that are just really just basic definitional things. and i still go there. and i live in Toronto which is a large city with many bars. i don't get me.