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| Ashley's is located at 338 S. State St. |
Silly question I know, beer is the simplest and best answer
to this bit of trivia.
But if you’re looking for a secondary answer, I’d offer this
one. The bar is the last ‘judgment-free’ zone in America. Well, providing you
find the right bar. (This is a blog about bars, not a bar in and of itself, so
judging is OK).
Tonight I made a trip to Ann Arbor favorite Ashley’s,
located here, home of what might be the best beer selection in Ann Arbor—and
that’s saying something.
It was a drizzly Monday. I told myself I’d buy an umbrella
in June, but that’s not going too well, because of---things.
I took a seat at the
bar, which was experiencing a pretty sparse crowd both at the bar and the table
seating area.
I ordered a Founder’s Oatmeal Stout and the Badger Burger,
your classic BLT burger, but with a pretty respectably BBQ sauce to go on it. The
bar was empty, with the exception of the 40-something-year-old business man
three stools to my right and the group of two college-aged guys trying to win
over young lady who looked a tad bit older than both of them. Safe to say
neither of them won the contest, but I’ll give the tiebreaker to the dude who
didn’t say mention his snake in his apartment every two minutes; seriously guy,
suitably-- try it.
When I was halfway through my burger and looking to order a
Newcastle Brown Ale, I noticed I was the only one remaining the bar. Normally,
this is not the worst thing to happen. Usually being the loner at the bar gives
you a chance to speak to the bar staff and get the inside scoop on the night.
Alas, this was not one of those nights. The seating area was
now packed, since Monday night at Ashley’s is trivia night.
Trivia night is a cult phenomenon around the Ann Arbor bar
scene; not that I’m complaining. I’m a nerd, not afraid to say it. But even
worse, I’m a nerd in multiple categories.
It’s one thing to know that Fe is iron on the periodic table;
it is one thing to know Napoleon Bonaparte was born in Corsica and not France;
and it is another thing to know the first FIFA World Cup was played in Uruguay
in 1930 with 13 teams. But when you know all three of those things, you really
have done a good job diluting all sense of being normal, even amongst other nerds.
For me, trivia is the vindication for acquiring a lifetime
of worthless knowledge. (But it’s not worthless when you win a gift card to
Buffalo Wild Wings because you know the Warsaw Pact better than you know your
cousins).
The thing about trivia night is that it really is for groups
of friends at tables. For the average guy at the bar who just wants a drink and
a casual conversation, trivia night really limits that with a DJ asking random
1980s pop trivia questions and playing one-minute versions of once famous
songs. Perhaps this is why the more experience bar crowd avoided Ashley’s
tonight.
Still, sitting at the bar did give me time to people watch
and make some mental notes on how people act in groups. For the most part, the
teams that did well were the most regimented.
“Putting the D in”
was by far the class of the field tonight (both in the name and on the
scorecard).
The group had the leader with the pencil and would go directly to
the person on the team that had knowledge of whatever category the question was
related to (history, science, music, who was in this particular commercial,
etc.). While other teams tried to ‘talk it out’ and collaborate on the answer,
this team of winners knew what was up –just give the ball to the most talented
player on the field, and everybody else move out of the way.
“Putting the D in” were the masters at this strategy of
teamwork by enlightened aristocracy. While other teams delved in with the idea
of team voting and ‘Hey, let’s combine answers so we get half points’ (this strategy
not only didn’t work, but really should result in losing points on the count of
it is that bad of an idea).
The second best team “Let’s Go Brew” (ha, get it? It’s like
Let’s Go Blue, but in they’re in a bar so they threw in a beer pun—yes, I know I’m
an asshole at times), had a similar strategy. But instead of having a team of
nerds who to go to, this team had the go to nerd who wrote down the answer all
the time---essentially he was Kobe Bryant. If he made it, the team will do
well; if he misses, well, what are they going to do? Go to the couple at the
corner of the table that has been making out for five minute straights (I’m not
against public displays of affection, but if you put your tongue in someone’s
mouth for the duration on an entire Major League Baseball pitching change,
someone is bound to get hurt).
By this time, I’m finishing up my Weihenstephaner Hefeweizen
and looking for the door. To my right is the same chick and two bros from
earlier. (God bless them for still trying, it’s like the end of Gallipoli, you
know it’s going to end poorly, but you still have to watch). I thought about
grabbing another, but then someone missed a question about who the Bull Moose Party nominated for president in 1912, and I felt it’d be best I leave before I
put my ‘Teddy Roosevelt , I’m going to tear through you like Panama' face on.
(RIP Robin Williams).
I paid my tab for my
delicious burgers and set of beers and headed out the door.
All and all, Ashley’s offers the best beer selection in Ann
Arbor, and the food menu is pretty solid for the non-beer drinking. Which
reminds me, the chick being hounded by the two bros was drinking a cocktail at
a beer bar, never a good sign guys. (At least order a cider, it’s the right
thing to do if you don’t like beer).
Anyway, the one Khaleesi and two Jorah
Mormonts did return to the bar. Neither of them tried to impress her with their
knowledge of StarCraft and Tolkien, so I can’t feel sorry for them. (But we can
feel sorry for Jorah, damn you Daario Naharis).
Upon leaving, I wished I had a chance to get to learn
about the staff a little more. Judging
from my prior experiences at the place, the staff seems seem pretty legit. But
busy nights are always rough—so they were worth the standard 15 percent tip.
As I was walking out, the rain was still coming down, reminding
me that fall is on its way (umbrella, needs to happen, soon, maybe). U-M is not
that far from the bar, so I’m dead-set positive the place will be an entirely
new scene in a matter of a few weeks, just in time for me to be in Grand Rapids
(my lucky day).
But Ashley’s is the bar you wish you had in your hometown
for nice post-work drink and burger.
Unless it’s trivia night, that’s never
good alone. So as always, pregame scouting can never hurt.
Seriously “Let’s Go Brew”, you missed ‘who was the first
African-American coach to win the Super Bowl’—Tony Dungy. That’s a layup. Go
back to cocktails and 1980s pop songs.
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