As we slip-slide our way into winter, the fluctuations are remarkable. The thermometer toggles between mild and frigid, then back to mild, then frigid, while the only constant is the early darkness.
By evening, the streetlights guide us to ‘The Back Nine’, a sports bar in Pittsford, NY. The fare is a bit high but the atmosphere is classy, and we fit the bill with our khakis, pullover sweaters and ‘Curious George’ sweatshirt (2 of 3 isn’t bad). We opted for the quiet air of the backroom where our own conversation was audible… and our fashions were not a distraction.
Unbeknownst to us, as we clinked our glasses and huddled in conversation, The Back Nine would be closing within days of this evening’s beer fest, if one beer qualifies as a ‘fest’. It’s a disappointment, we enjoyed our two visits here, on ‘Bar Night’, and looked forward to returning, upscaling our outings a bit.
There are many reasons why an establishment shutters its doors, but a watering hole in a classy town, closing? A bit of a surprise and made me think, ‘was it something we said’?
The closing certainly wasn’t due to rowdiness, we’re a docile group and any swaying or tippiness was a result of our age and equilibrium, not too many drinks. Was it our overheard conversations that intimidated patrons and discouraged them from returning? The mention of the world’s ant population outweighing humans, or insects dying at alarming rates or mollusks having eyes, may have been inappropriate for a crowd looking for something less cerebral on their ‘bar night’?
Soaring property assessments and declining school performances maybe was too staid for the ears of the common bar fly. Did we discuss the genius of Churchill and Aristotle too loudly for a drinking crowd?
The problem for bars that accept small bands of Seniors is that we don’t drink much, we talk too loud and our topics are extrapolated from editorial pages of the NYT or WSJ, instead of the Sporting News or NASCAR weekly. We may be haughty and tend to bloviate. We are polite to a fault but can be pompous…and we wear curious clothing. We are Seniors, you know.
It’s about time for another gathering. We’ll go back to our favorite ‘dive’, where every spot is loud and the patrons don’t care what we say, the crappy music is too loud to hear anything, and a dog walks among us. The cheap beer will guarantee the doors will always swing wide…
…a Curious George sweatshirt will be a welcome attraction!
“Education is the best provision for old age” Aristotle