Ode to a bar.

2004-02-25 at 12:17 p.m.

Most bar going people, it seems, are out to discover that Perfect Bar. For some, it's a recreation of their First Bar, for some it's their College Bar, or for others, it's a recreation of their first Neighborhood Dive.

I don't remember my first bar (I think it was with my parents in the Mall of America, how disturbing is that?), and my college town had two colleges and one bar, so while I liked that thar bar, it was never really a choice. The Jesse James Room notwithstanding.

I'd never really found my favorite Neighborhood Dive in Chicago, either. Because for something to be a favorite bar, it must satisfy several requirements:

• within walking or easy public tran. Seriously. A favorite bar can't really be a favorite Neighborhood Dive bar if someone has to remain sober to drive. And driving otherwise is not ever an option.

• relatively steady, relatively reliably entertaining staff. Who are likely to eventually remember your name.

• a regular or two. Someone to miss you when you don't show up for a while. Not in a stalkery way, "You weren't here last night!!!" but more in a "Hey, haven't seen you in a while, what's new?" kind of way.

• the delicate balance of cleanliness must be maintained. I don't want to be a regular at a bar where my footprints home are outlined in black goo, but I also don't want to hang out someplace where I might stain something, break something, or leave smudge marks. It's a bar, folks. If I wanted sterile, I'd be at the TGI Friday's.

The bars in Chicago were usually either too far away to be a reliable favorite (if it takes more than twenty minutes to get there, it's Night Out, it's not hanging out), or, when they were nearby, far far too gnarly. Probably more a reflection on where I lived than on Chicago's bar scene.

But I have found my first Favorite Bar. And it's around the corner.

Here's how I know this bar was meant for me, and I was meant for this bar:

Not only do they have great coffee, and $2 beer on tap. Not only do they have rotating artists exhibits and mismatched chairs. Not only do they serve a mean breakfast. Not only do they know me now (and return my wallet to me if found on the floor of the bathroom--no, don't ask).

On Tuesday nights, they have their own Trivia night.

None of this NTN trivia (which is impossible to find in Portland anyway). No, Beulahland's proprietor writes the trivia himself, and this shit is hard. 25 questions, usually with about 15 bonuses sprinkled about in there, and usually a score of 25 or so is good enough to at least place.

In "Harold and Maude", what was the make and model of car that Harold converted to a hearse? Who was the first president to preside over all fifty states? Was he democrat or republican? In what year was Dolly the clone announced? What men's NCAA basketball team was the last to have an entirely undefeated season? Who sang "He's So Fine"? Who was convicted for plagiarizing it? Which movie is older: Pinocchio, Dumbo, or Bambi? What type of sign is Pisces: Earth, Air, Water or fire? What planet rules it? Who's next in line for succession to the Presidency after the Secretary of State? What amendment specifies the order of succession?

It's like I found my own little slice of Big Geek Heaven.

I started going with Bec and Nicole, and Andrew would come sometimes, and Dan and Emily started coming, but now Bec and Nicole are swamped with work, and Emily hasn't been feeling well, and Dan isn't coming without Emily, and Andrew isn't coming without Dan.

But I'm still going. It's like I found something that I can be hot-damn good at. I don't win when I play on my own--but that's fine. I know I need a team to win, but I don't have one right now, and I'm okay with that. I've played by myself, and got 19. Last night I went, and I got invited to join a team made up of a stripper from Union Jacks, a Portland Public School vice principal, a roofer, and--god, some woman I keep forgetting. We got 23. How fun is that? How much does that sound like I'm setting up a joke?

I go there sometimes for breakfast, or for a beer on a weekend night. It's a different place when it's not packed to the gills with the returning trivia players.

There's the team that's generally called The Doctors, but is occasionally called The Table of Bald Men. They win a lot. Then there's the Ginormous Team of Hebrew School Students, who answer every religious trivia question correctly, but miss a lot of the sports questions. They win a lot too.

But in the morning, it's quieter, emptier, NPR or the jukebox is playing, they grill me up a fantastic egg bagel sandwich, and pour me a cup of coffee, say hi, ask me how I am, and let me go on about my way. I read, or write, or stare into space.

I think I like the split personality of the bar as much as anything else too. It reinvents itself as much as I do.

But it never loses its slice of Big Geek.

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