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| Birch Lodge is located at 732 Michigan St. in Grand Rapids, Michigan |
Help, I’m in a strange place and there are people around me.
This moment of panic happened during the fourth time a large
group of people huddled around the bar—and my seat—asking the bartender to pour
seven shot of Fireball. Yes, seven, you read that correctly.
My latest trip took me to Birch Lodge, located here. Now, I
have been to Birch before—once, I think—I recalled it was a pretty tame bar
where not a lot happened.
Well, either I went on a bizarre night, or I just suck when
it comes to perceiving things (I’ll let you, the reader, decide that one).
I rolled into the bar sometime around 11:30 and took a seat
at the bar and ordered a Bell’s Two Hearted Ale. The place was pretty busy, but
not too terribly packed. Didn’t seem like the place where things would go
down—oh, if I only knew.
I was drinking my beer and taking note of the scene around
me. The bar was decorated with red lights and on the back of the wall there
were some cool hunting trophies, including antlers from a stag and what looked
like a genuine British Lee-Enfield (thank God for Call of Duty, play a couple
of hours and you become a WWII weapons expert—although I preferred the American
M1 Garand, bolt-action rifles are for people who just are asking to be shot).
To the far-left corner of the bar there was a pair of guys
who were really getting into Golden Tee. Now I remember Golden Tee, the great
bar video game where you roll a white ball to simulate a golf swing on the
screen.
Back in the 1990s and early 2000s it was a pretty basic
game. I think there were three courses and the controls were pretty
straightforward—or should I say straight back and straight forward. Anyways,
today’s ‘modern’ Golden Tee features things like back spin, interactive
standings with other players from around the country and…..am I hearing Jim Nantz’s
voice?
Jim Nantz does Golden Tee commentary.
How’d they swing that--does he have an entire room Golden
Teem games in his mansion?
I was picturing the sight of Jim Nantz obsessing over Golden Tee at 2 a.m. with his wife telling him to go to sleep,
when all the sudden, ‘Hey man, excuse me, are you Dan Meloy, from Jackson?’ Oh God,
here we go.
For the strangest reason, I had a feeling this would not be good.
I am surprised with the amount of people who read this blog (seriously, thanks
guys), but I would say I am a far cry from people pointing me out. (I like to
think I’m in the ‘receiving one vote’ column in the internet blogger Top 25
poll).
The guy that pointed me out was a very tall man rocking a
NAIA basketball hoodie—NAIA, small-school pride for life. He then asked his
question again, “Hey do you know (name withheld).”
The name was one of several that I still remember from high
school but rarely do I ever see/talk to.
I did eventually see her with her group of friends.
We both said hello, and I asked if she came to Birch often.
She replied yes and then went back to her table of friends with their Bud Light
and Fireball. (I've been told I need to stop judging people by what they drink, something about how it would make me more likable).
It was the typical, ‘I acknowledge that I once knew you and
you are here conversation’. This is why I’m a fan of the head nod. The head nod
is the best, ‘hey I know you, but we both recognize that we really don’t have a
need to talk to each other’ motion. God save the head nod.
With the brief high school reunion over---is that coming up?
Did I get invited? Do my classmates know if am still dwelling on this earth?
(No seriously, my dad didn’t get invited to his reunion because
his classmates think he is no longer on this Earth. We both had a great laugh
about it—because we are terrible people—but my mother was not amused).
I ordered a Poet from New Holland for my second beer. I
wouldn’t say Birch Lodge has a fantastic tap section, but if you are at the bar
you can catch a glimpse of its admirable bottle section.
I turned my attention to the Oregon-Arizona football game, a
game the Wildcats managed to pull out. Seriously, Pac 12 football is fun to
watch. There are four plays a minute, and the kids run faster.
Better than the
Big Ten crap we have to deal with in the Midwest.
It then struck me that I was the only ‘individual’ at the
bar. Everybody else was in a group of at least three or more. (You could expect
a ‘Three’s Company joke here, but I guess I didn’t watch TV Land at the right
moment to get acclimated with that one. Too much MASH, I guess).
I don’t mind my small piece of solitude at the bar.
Hell, it’s why this blog exist, but to reiterate the first sentence, “Help, a
lot of people that I don’t know are around me.”
I started to take note of who is sitting in groups and
who is not, with the bar's loud music on the jukebox, it was hard to catch tidbits of conversation around me.
Usually for my bizarre entertainment, there is at least one
couple at the corner of the bar that I can judge from how much the girl is
texting on her phone and not paying attention and how much they guy is checking out the bartender when his girlfriend isn’t looking (Yes, I know I’m
a terrible person). But that wasn’t on tap for night.
A few seats from me were a group of young women at the bar
drinking a variety of Founder’s selections. At the other end of the bar were a
group of large men who were getting a little ‘shovey’.
I was catching glimpses of the girls’ conversation, trying
to make the night a little more interesting, now we got some shouting from the
end of the bar.
One of the girls was talking about her—and now we have two
bros fighting and rolling on the floor.
Excellent.
Everybody in the bar stood up, one of the rather menacing
members of the bar staff sprang into action; breaking up the fight. Really the
fight was short, resembling more of a ‘bro down’, just will less bro-ing out
afterwards.
Most people in the bar were shocked at what was happened,
saying that fights rarely happen at Birch Lodge. I recall I was chuckling a
little, I was three beers in and haven’t eaten in a while. And to me, the idea
of a bar fight is just laughable.
You are going to a place where your senses and thinking
ability will already be hindered, and now you want to start physical combat
with a stranger.
Yes, I know drinking means less thinking, but come ‘on. Keep
some of your senses.
Judging from what the regulars in the crowd were saying,
fights never happen at Birch, and I am prone to believe them. All the more comical
that it happened on the day I happened to visit. (Maybe I just make people more
aggressive, hell if I know).
I finished my Blue Moon and watched the final seconds tick
down from Arizona’s win over Oregon. Good for Rich Rodriguez, I wonder if
Michigan will take him back.
Overall, my experience from Birch was…..memorable. Probably
not the best place for the lone individual looking to get a drink—or I might
have just showed up on a bad night.
I wasn’t in the mood for food--I settled with the Michigan
St. favorite ‘post-bar Checkers’ instead--so I can’t offer a review of the food
menu.
The place seems like on most occasions to be a tame, relaxed
bar. But I just happened to go on the night where people were taking just way
too much Fireball and showing too much machismo.
It was a strange night, and a strange trip, but that’s what
I like about people. People are strange, that’s what makes them interesting.
Dealing with strange makes for interesting nights.
Well, at
least more interesting than what Jim Nantz is doing.
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