WALK WITH ME AS I SHARE THE THIRD ARTICLE IN A SERIES OF LETTERS TO THE INDUSTRY I’VE DEDICATED MY LIFE TO, AND WORK THROUGH WHAT’S NEXT FOR THE BAR INDUSTRY IN THE POST PANDEMIC WORLD.
“Come on children … mind the gap.“ — Ms. Frizzle, The Magic School Bus
The heat is still radiating off the pavement and the bars are busy tonight. Not pre-pandemic busy, but busy. Definitely busier than when you met some out-of-state friends at the neighborhood bar you’ve been frequenting throughout the pandemic. The travel restrictions were lifted about 3 months ago, and as timing would have it, your friends who you’d only Zoomed with for the past year were passing through. They were celebrating with a cross country road trip to reconnect with long distance friends.
Yes, you’ve been out. Cautiously. And just to the small bar in your neighborhood. But you consider tonight your first “real” night out since the mask ordinance and 6-foot social distancing rules were lifted. It’s been about a month, but you’ve been hesitant to be one of the first in an overflowing crowd headed to bars and nightclubs.
You know it’s safe. But as you pull up and survey the one newly opened bar among a sea of empty buildings once peppered with thriving entertainment, you can’t help but feel a bit discouraged.
The bouncer takes your temperature and checks your ID. That’s a thing now, and probably will be for a while. Just like taking your shoes off at the airport— it’s a quiet remnant of a strange time in history that still carries reminders.
The bar is packed and a band is playing in the corner. It’s crowded, and beyond a rippling field of people, you can see the bartenders at this particular bar still wearing their masks, though some less effectively than others at this point.
Someone who seems to be the manager or owner is chatting with a few guests in a loud environment while his mask hangs haphazardly tucked below his chin. It’s not uncommon to see basic “safety” procedures still implemented, though they aren’t required. The crowd however, is not masked; they sip, they mingle and sit a little too close together. It feels weird, it makes you anxious, but also stirs pings of excitement because it feels so new. You order a drink at the bar, and sip on a big-box-brand gin and tonic; the only option available now that your favorite local distillery had to close.
There aren’t many frills at this bar, just basic cocktails. You pay with cash, mostly out of novelty because you haven’t used cash in months, but also because it’s getting close to the evening rush so it’s easier than opening a tab.
You tip a dollar or two, like you always have, but because of his mask, it’s hard to tell if the bartender is appreciative. As you slurp the last of your big-box-gin, something about the packed crowd still has you feeling uneasy. As more people shuffle in, you bump into an old acquaintance and catch up over a round of shots. As the liquor seeps in, you start to feel more relaxed and the vibe of the unfamiliar bar begins to feel more familiar.
With new feelings of comfort and excitement, you remember your next stop. You grabbed a reservation the day they became available — at a new spot that’s a collaboration of your favorite bartenders in the city. They’re no longer at the places you used to visit them at, but you’re excited to see them and enjoy their creations. You’re greeted by a hostess and as she escorts you in, the vibe feels like a restaurant, but the décor is more intentionally themed than a restaurant would be.
The tables are spaced but it still feels busy. The hostess seats you in booth and instructs you to scan the QR code on your table to access the menu. She’s not wearing a mask, and neither are the guests, but everyone remains seated at their table, sticking closely to their party.
You look around and are unable to find a bar or bartender in sight, but your eye line is quickly drawn to a kitchen door with a flurry of activity behind it. As your eyes wander back to the glowing phone menu, you catch cocktails with names like “Unseen Dream” and “The Hidden Eye.” The safety shtick makes you smile, as does the play on the unknown. Your imagination wanders to visions of bartenders cooking up elaborate cocktails, cloaked in darkness and mystery behind the peep hole. When drinks hit your table, they do not disappoint. Over the top presentations, rare and exotic ingredients, and flavors and textures that challenge the senses. As if being back at a busy bar isn’t overstimulating enough, this concept felt next level.
After a few cocktails, the hostess timidly notifies you of last call, and as you glance down at your watch you’re surprised to see it’s already 15 minutes to midnight. That seems early, but this is the latest you’ve been up in months.
You pay your bill digitally and notice an automatic 20% gratuity. Service was friendly and the drinks were fantastic, so you don’t really mind the courtesy fee, but something about not seeing or interacting with your bartenders is causing a strange disconnect.
As you walk home, downtown feels quiet. Quieter than it should be. A lot of the nightclubs you pass are just now seeing their first rush of customers. With loosened safety restrictions, the government opened the way for later last calls, something that will certainly help bars make significant and needed economic recovery. Before the pandemic, you were one of the late-nighters, heading out at 11 and staying until the early hours of the morning. But somewhere in the last year, your preferences changed and your awareness and habits in a bar environment became forever altered.
You make one last stop at the neighborhood bar near your house before turning in. A few people gather around outdoor tables out front and a few regulars linger inside, chatting with the owner who also doubles as the only bartender. As you take your last sip for the evening, you watch a bar regular clumsily knock over a bottle of sanitizer on his way to the juke box. He bangs the old set with his fist and Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys are Back in Town” starts to play. In that moment, and that night, things feel very different, but also very much the same.