(UPDATE: I feel like I shortchanged the comparison. See the nickel’s worth improvement below.)
The older you get, the more your tastes change. Whereas you once lived and breathed for laser lights, booming bass, and whatever is in those smoke machines (I like to imagine nerdy children are in the basement clapping erasers in front of fans), one day you couldn’t.
So then you hit up the deal bars (the theme bars, chain restaurants, and sports pubs) because it was still counted as “going out” and “being social” and you were still “getting yo’ drink on” (does anyone say that anymore?), but then it was too far to travel.
So then you just go to the bar closest to home. You know… those places where the nicotine absorbed by the ceilings and the walls are the only things holding it together.
Here’s a brief history of John Travolta film options that illustrate the de-evolution of the bar scene the older we get:
Saturday Night Club Fever – There are no limits to the unexplained popularity of something that’s not quite so good.
Look Who’s Talking On The TV – The possibility that you are dancing at a sports bar is directly proportionate to the possibility that a baby thinks in Bruce Willis’ voice. Also relatable – beer prices and John Travolta’s paycheck.
Swill’d Hogs – Ever hear of the phrase, phoning it in when referring to something that’s easy? Well, walking to the corner tavern and starring in a lame film are synonyms. If phrases can have synonyms…