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| Putt Putt's Bar is located at 1148 W. Fulton St. Grand Rapids, MI |
As a proud Aquinas alum, I have pretty much have spent my entire time in GR on the eastside of the Grand River. Mainly because, that’s where everything was.
School, library, stores, bars, parks, just about everything worth a damn to a college kid was on the Eastside, so why venture out.
What I got from locals who lived in GR their entire lives—on the Eastside—the Westside was dirty, cheap and rundown (Hey, that sounds like Jackson!, I might actually like it).
So last night, I visited one of the ‘main’ bars on the city’s Westside—Putt Putt’s Bar, located here.
Right off the bat, the place was carrying a good vibe. The bar had a sign that read: Putt Putt’s Bar – You’re only a stranger once.
That’s a good sign. (But a terrible pun on my part).
I walked in and took a seat at the bar. The layout is a long bar with a seating area in front of the bar that has about seven tables. To the bar goer’s far left is a gaming area with the some arcade games and the bar classic, Golden Tee (but no Jim Nance commentary, for shame).
I ordered and New Holland Ichabod Ale (Halloween is coming up after all) and took note of the scene around me. To might right was a group of five or so people sitting at the corner of the bar, all of them seem to be in a group together.
(By the by, for a pretty decent review of Pumpkin-flavored beers, go here). Can’t review it all, so I give credit to people who do it better than me.)
The group were sipping on an assortment of craft beers and
watching Sons of Anarchy together.
From what I could gather from my first, and in all likelihood only, viewing of Sons of Anarchy, the show is about a bunch of bikers who show up at random people houses and either beat the shit out of them or have an emotional heart-to-heart conversation with them (a pretty significant gap between the two if you ask me).
This episode was more of the beat the crap out of someone episodes, something over the leader being disrespected or slandered so something, to hell if I know.
Wait? Leader. The show is called ‘Sons of Anarchy’ and they have leaders? Hypocrisy, hypocrisy, I say unto thee (This is while I’ll never get a gig writing TV Shows). How could a group of anarchists have a leader, I thought the whole point of anarchy was that there is no social order or structure.
See, another reason why the film ‘The Purge’ is the dumbest thing to happen since the Series of Unfortunate Events movie--I will never forgive you Jim Carey, spit on your grave.
Confusion of how the whole anarchist bikers works aside, who I guess need some semblance of order and civilization, I mean, they need the gas stations to work to fuel their rides, right? But it was still pretty cool that the bar let them watch their show, and judging from the bartenders, it’s a regular occurrence.
It was roughly 11:30 p.m. on a Tuesday, so it really wasn’t much of rush hour. So it was good time to cater to the regulars, and for yours truly to catch a glimpse of what was the bar’s ‘real’ essence.
Behind me there was a group of six people at a table sharing two pitchers of PBR. There were four dudes and two chicks in the group (Good odds for any Spartan).
I finished my Ichabod and ordered a New Holland Sundog, while the group behind me stepped up to the bar thought it was time for shots of Jägermeister—alright, now it’s a party.
The group stumbled back to its table, and keeping dibs on them was my entertainment for the rest of the night. (Again, doesn’t take much to entertain, you just need to put in a little effort—or lower expectations, your call.)
It looked like one of the guys and one of the girls made up a couple, with the other four just being friends.
But the guy who was sitting directly behind me was having none of that, and he hooked his arm around the girl to his left shoulder. It took her a while for her to notice, but then she slipped it off.
Incomplete pass (Yes, I know I’m a jerk, you should know this by now from reading this).
It was a couple of minutes before the dude tried wrapping his arm around the girls waste, but the girl got up to put on her sweatshirt.
Alright, the dude is facing third-and-long, I’m invested now. But not too invested to the point where I look like a creep (again, trying to be the casual observer).
All was quiet on the Western Front for another good 15-20 minutes until I suddenly hear out of nowhere, the girl in question shouting ‘you’re drunk’ to the guy in question.
First off, this is a bar, so I think that’s a safe assumption to make.
It turns out the guy was trying to hold her hand, but didn’t go out the way had wanted to.
Fourth-and-long, punt buddy, punt!! No, I did not say this out loud. But I, and the bartender, were having a chuckle about it.
It was about 1 a.m., and most everybody at the bar was heading for the door. The Sons of Anarchy crowd already left to do whatever S.O.A. fans do after they watch their show—I don’t want to imagine.
But I’ll be damned if I was going to leave before the group
behind me got up, this was getting good.
People watching—almost better than Netflix at times, almost.
People watching—almost better than Netflix at times, almost.
The group behind me was getting up and putting on their coats, with the couple in the group doing their mandatory make-out session—I’m not outright against P.D.A, but anything over 10 seconds is just odd.
The guy in question was going in for a hug with the girl in question (good, he’s punting, smart call) AND HE PULLS A FAKE AND GOES IN FOR A KISS, AND THE HAND COMES UP. (Mandatory Notre Dame-LSU 2007 Sugar Bowl clip here.
Denied. I felt bad for him.
But really, where were his other two friends at the table on this. Offensive coordinators failed him. At this point I was playing Jon Gruden Monday Nigh Football in my head (you have to admit, I already have the hair).
The girl and the couple left for the door, leaving the other three to finish up their drinks. One of the friends told the guy in question ‘come’on, bro’.
‘Come’on’, dude where were you (this is all going in my head, I should reiterate that I’m not saying anything at this time). When drinking with friends, you have two responsibilities. Either get into stupid shit with your friend, or make sure your friend doesn’t do stupid shit on their own.
Jon Gruden impersonation: “Definitely on the quarterback for calling an audible in that situation, but where’s the coordinators giving him the proper instruction?”
I was finishing off my Sundog and bidding farewell to the very nice bar staff. There were a little cold at first time me—again, outsider—but they seemed pretty nice. Like the sign says, ‘You’re a stranger only once.’
As I was about to walk around the bar, three young women came up to the rail and ordered drinks.
Oh.... maybe I should stay.
I just paid my tab, so I was very confident that ordering another drink would border between the ‘trying-to-hard obvious’ and ‘way-over-the-top obvious’.
But then two rather large gentlemen in Grand Valley State basketball t-shirts walked.
Ah, the biggest downside to the Westside, it is not that far from Grand Valley, meaning a whole new kind of competition if you are Aquinas College folk.
Part of me felt like hanging in there, but that nagging voice in the back of my mind was begging me to punt.
I can see why the dude in question went for it, it definitely works from time to time.
But there is a time and a place (and again, friends failed emphatically with providing assistance).
Come’on, it’s supposed to be You’llNever Walk Alone.
In the end, I opted for the punt, and headed for the door.
There is a time and a place for going for it. It wasn’t there, and it wasn’t then.
Take notes Charlie Weis. And you too Jim Carry….asshole.
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