Well, I only got to drink in one of them.
My favorite dive, in which I spent a lot of my drinking time and most of my money, has now turned into a motherfucking Thai restaurant. Not that I have anything in particular against Thai food, I just hoped I'd get to sit on my usual barstool for one more time.
Anyway, the bar that remained a bar is called Sherlock Holmes Pub. It's pricey but it was the only bar in town that stayed open until 6am on weekends and 4am on weekdays, so it was where I went every time I couldn't stay at my dive after hours. For a while, a buddy of mine worked there, too, so I'd get a few free beers and drinks tossed in the mix. The best thing about it, though, was its smoking room. It wasn't a small cage made of glass, it wasn't a two-by-two prison cell where smokers get thrown in for five minutes until they get their "filthy" fix. No, sir, it was a small bar within the bar, with its own counter, beer taps, and liquor bottles (even a restroom). You could avoid the whining non-smokers all night long while getting drunk(er).
One early afternoon, I had a bit of time in town without the family members so, naturally, I went there. Walked into the smoking room and noticed the ashtrays were missing. Downtrodden, I returned to the main bar, climbed on a barstool, ordered a large draft beer, and asked the bartender about the smoking room. He talked to me for about 15 minutes - I had to interrupt to order a second beer - about how they seemingly got screwed by inspectors and whatnot. What I got from the story, the owners pissed somebody off and they decided that the smoking room had to go. And with smoking being the BIG EVIL nowadays, it didn't take them long to pull it off. Naturally, they claimed they did it to protect the employees from being exposed to second-hand smoke. The fact that every single member of the pub's staff smokes did not matter one fucking bit.
I only had forty-five minutes of family-free time, so I drank three beers. It was great sitting inside the bar, the only patron. It'd have been even better if I didn't have to go outside to chase my beer with a smoke.
I wish I had more drinking time while I was in Denmark, could have visited a couple more places I used to frequent. On the other hand, I dread to think what might have become of them. Perhaps, it's better to keep them in my memory as they used to be instead of having to drink away the monstrosities they've turned into.
Not sure what this piece is about; maybe, an homage to how things used to be (for me). More likely, a drunken nostalgia rumbling.
This is the pub's smoking room.
And this is what you see when you enter the pub.
