Grand Rapids Brewing Company: Lunch specials, directions and comfort

Grand Rapids Brewing Company is located 1 SW Ionia Ave.
in Grand Rapids, Michigan 

After making my next big career move. Hello Big Rapids, Michigan. (Read The Pioneer).

I resorted to spend my last few weeks in Grand Rapids the best way I can: Rock n’ Roll, French toast and random lunch adventures.

This post will be about the third adventure (sorry, just trying to keep the blog on focus).

Heading out for lunch on my week of vacation (best way to end your time at a company), I stumbled across a door with a large white banner above it that read ‘Lunch’. And lo and behold, it was the door to the GrandRapids Brewing Company (located here).

Well, the banner can’t lie. Must be a good place for lunch.  

I took a walk into the brewery and grabbed a seat at the bar.

GRBC is one of the staples of Grand Rapids’ downtown craft beer scene--that’s not named Founder’s. The building is as old as the city, with remnants of the old carriage doors still visible for customers to look at and contemplate the history of beer in the Furniture City….Or they don’t notice, and just ask for a Silver Foam.

I grabbed a seat at the bar. It was lunch time, so there were a few groups of people and more in the seating area and more at the bar.

The place has a front and back room, with a very unique stage for bands to play in the backroom. It is almost this balcony-type set up, with the listeners and patrons looking up to the second floor to see the musical act. So points for creativity.

When I took a seat at the bar, a rather friendly bartender laid before me a menu for the places craft beers and the lunch specials it had going on. 

The banner didn’t lie, this place was serious about lunch.

I ordered the Rosalyn Bliss Blonde (I know this place has the best Hefeweizen in Michigan, but it wasn’t offered at the time) and a sandwich that featured bacon, turkey and ham, can’t go wrong there.

NFL Live was on one of the TVs. 

I didn’t get to see much of the weekend’s actions, shows how much I care about ‘the most popular league in America’, but it was nice to get a rundown of what happened during the week. How Ron Jaworski can look at the same 5-yard passing rout five times in a row still beats me, and I write about sports.

I grew up in a Green Bay Packer household, but I have nominal appreciation for the team. I’m happy when they win, when they lose, meh. Life goes on.

The Bliss Blonde and sandwich arrived quickly, showing that the brewery wasn’t kidding when they said there were serious about providing a quick lunch.

The beer and the sandwich complimented each other nicely, and other sections on the menu are rather satisfying. (I was half tempted to try the pork and waffles—because that just sound delicious—but I knew I was going out that night, so I tried to keep it light).

The rest the patrons were also lunch goers, mostly professional types enjoying the classic ‘two-beer lunch’. And before you start judging, just remember that Harry Caray went to the bar over 1,000 in 1972, just for lunch only.

The bartender was really nice, asking what my holiday plans were. Turns out he knew where Jackson so, since his cross country coach had them race at Ella Sharp Park a lot. I’m not entirely sure what qualifies as a ‘good’ cross country course, but I guess Jackson has one. So horay for Jackson.

While I was finishing my sandwich, a man came up to the bar and wanted to know where 812 Fulton St. was. The bartender said that he ‘technically’ was on Ionia St., but Fulton St. was right outside, so it should be right around there.

Despite the rather competent directions, the dude still didn’t know what to do with this new information. I asked him if he was looking for E. Fulton or W. Fulton St. Since that does make a very big difference.

Grand Rapids Brewing Co. is a block away from the Fulton-Division intersection that divides the city, and thus, all the directions. The man said that he thinks he wants to head to 812 E. Fulton St, but he doesn’t know for sure.

Well, 50-50 odds. I told him to walk out the door and walk nine blocks to the right. If it turns out that he needs W. Fulton St. Turn around, and walk 16 blocks the other way. Then boom, you’ll be there.

I’m not an urban planner or a design major, but the way they laid out the city streets an addresses seems about normal to most people. Not this guy, unfortunately.

After giving (remarkable) directions, the bartender thanked me for the advice to the traveler and we went back to discussing our Christmas plans. Turns out he has to work the final shift before GRBC closes for the holidays, which I felt was rather unfortunate.

Turns out the place is going to pay him a little extra, and he enjoys being the last place to give out drinks to those who need a drink before spending a lot time with their families (which wouldn’t be me, no, never).

For my second beer I ordered a Senator Lyon's Stout, named after this guy. I finished off my plate and spent the rest of the time watching ESPN by myself.

I really enjoying going out for lunch and having time by myself. For my money, have time to think is a much under appreciated commodity these days. As Ms. Mia Watts of Pulp Fiction understands, 

long periods of silence shows that you are truly comfortable with someone. (Can’t believe it took me this long to work in a Pulp Fiction reference to this blog).

Seeing how it was lunch time, I decided to end it with only two beers. However, I highly recommend that visitors to GR (and folks that live there) try the phenomenal choices of beer and really solid food menu (not solid as in the food is solid, though most of it is. But solid in that it's pretty good).

If I had to some up GRBC in one word, I’d use ‘comfortable’. The place is really reserved, and the mostly wooden framework of the restaurant and bar give off a very welcoming feeling. It is a place that both craft-beer lovers and visitors to the city will love—conveniently located next to the Van Andel Arena, if you are catching a show or game there.

I paid my tab and bid adieu to the staff. As a walked back from downtown Grand Rapids, I began to reflect on what I will most about living here.

Yeah, the beer is an easy answer. But it’s not the right one.

Really the answer boils down to comfort. There is not a whole lot better than being with people that make you comfortable, truly comfortable. And for me, that is what makes a truly great bar, and truly great people. Comfort.

What makes a great bar or a great place to hang out is not the menu or the drink specials or even what people wear at the bar. It’s the people. It always has been the people, always will. People are awesome—it’s why I took up journalism—I gig where I get to write to and talk about my favorite thing, people.

However, no matter what awesome are comfort zones are, you have to leave them—or else you will forget why you were even comfortable in the first place…and that’s discomforting.

So I continued my walk (Mandatory: You’ll Never Walk Alone clip—God I hope Liverpool does better during the second half of the season), being glad of all the great things that have made me comfortable, but looking forward to the things that will make me uncomfortable—life is funny like that.

And with that in mind, I find moving to a new town, comforting.

………….

Oh, don’t worry. Barstool Banter is still happening. I said leave some things that are in your comfort zone, but don’t abandoning it completely.

That’d just be crazy.   

Schuberg's: Lobster Bisque, The Weather Channel and Don Quixote

Shurberg's Bar and Grill is located at 109 N. Michigan St.
in Big Rapids, Michigan 

In the latest chapter of my Don Quixote-like travels that make up the career of a 20-something journalists (in middle school we took a career aptitude test—I got forest park ranger—let that sink in for a while) my latest venture took me north to Big Rapids.

Driving around and trying to acclimate to the town (read: I was looking for a place to drink), I came across Schuberg’s Bar and Grill, located here.

Going into a new place, in a new town, I really didn’t know what to expect.

Walking in, I see the bar is decked out with Christmas lights, lunch specials on a chalkboard, a bunch of older ‘townies’ enjoying lunch and a guy named Hank (or at least he looks like a Hank) sitting at the corner of the bar downing a PRB while watching the Weather Channel.

I was in heaven.

I wiped the stupid smile off my face and walked up to the bar. I ordered a Great Lakes Brewing Company Christmas Ale and asked for a food menu.

To set the scene, the bar is made of oak and sits about 15 people. The sitting area has about eight tables, six were occupied—it was lunch time and the place was full of people who appear to be regulars. 

Along the back wall were some booths that had a few people that looked like Ferris State students (they’re easy to spot, they’re wearing hoodies and the one young women decided to not wear pants and just go for leggings). Bold decision, let’s see if it works out for her.

Heckler: When did this turn into a fashion column. You barley know how to dress yourself (Ho, Ho, Ho).

I ordered the bar’s soup of the day: Lobster Bisque and a grilled cheese sandwich. As I looked around the place, it seemed to be a pretty chill bar.

I was most intrigued by Hank (who I later found out was Norm—NORM!!! (I did it I found Norm. It didn’t hit me until by drive back to Grand Rapids, but still achievement unlocked **Final Fantasy Fanfare**)

God, I’m such a nerd…how is it that I have friends?

The Weather Channel seems just odd to me. Yeah, I get the point. I tells you what the weather, but a 24-hour network dedicated to the weather.

Weather on TV started out as a five-minute clip on your local news, with occasional updates throughout the day. And that is all you need. Done. Move on.

But for reasons unknown, The Weather Channel decided to ‘reinvent’ weather reporting. Fun fact: Anytime somebody pitches be something using the word ‘reinvent’ I hate them. You can only invent something once. If you improve on an already existing invention, it’s a new invention. No need for the ‘re’.

 But Norm was glued. Starting out with local on the 8s (turns out it’s going to snow in Big Rapids this weekend—note to self, buy more snow stuff) and the digesting a story on flooding in Mississippi or wherever, hell I was half-ass paying attention, it’s whatever state I want it to be for the purpose of the story.

My lobster bisque was very good and it was a solid grilled cheese. After glancing at the menu, I was really impressed with the food selection for what appeared to be a ‘mom and pop’ bar. However, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that the menu was solid. It was lunchtime, and the locals were gathered there, just go with what they know.

I was wearing a suit and reading the Big Rapids Pioneer at the bar—wearing a suit during midday at the bar: achievement unlocked, NEW LEVEL **fanfare**. Just breaking all sorts of berries today.

The bartender noticed my look and asked me for the occasion (more on that later). To be fair, just about everybody—save the FSU students and leggings girl—were in standard dress shirts and slacks.

The mood of the people seemed to be that they were all professional types, enjoying themselves in a very relaxed atmosphere. Very similar to Logan’s Alley in Grand Rapids of Conor O’Neil’s in Ann Arbor.

There were not a lot of people sitting at the bar, really just Norm and some other kid in his 20s ordering the soup—which I highly recommend if you make it up to BR.

I then started thinking that I look pretentious as hell ‘who wears a suit and reads the newspaper at the bar? You’re no Barney Stinson. But then I got over myself and convinced myself that I looked awesome.

If dressing in a tie and drinking midday is considered wrong and off-putting, then I’ll be perfectly happy drinking by myself, learning about the weather in Boston with Norm—I feel guilty for not trying to start a conversation with Norm, but I that would just ruin it.

Don Quixote didn’t care about what people thought about what he wore, so neither should I---that’s terrible advice. The only people who truly don’t care what others think or call psychopaths, they are the true defenders of the ‘I don’t care’ motifs.

I finished off my porter and my sandwich, I still had to work that night in Grand Rapids, so my trip to Schuberg’s had to be abbreviated.

As a history nerd, I did appreciate the Big Rapids and Ferris State memorabilia. It turns out Ferris State is named after its founder Woodbridge Nathan Ferris, who went on to be the Governor of Michigan and a United States Senator (the more you know).

The staff is really friendly and it has a comfortable atmosphere—really welcoming for first-timers. 

The beer selection is pretty solid, both on tab (about 10, eight when we discount Bud and Miller) and about 20 craft beer in bottle, even though the first beer I ordered they had out—so results may vary on the whole 20 different beers part.

I paid my tab and made my way to the door. The bartender waived (I’m guessing it was because of the suit, or hell, Big Rapids is just friendly for all I care).

There isn’t really a parking lot, since the bar is on one of Big Rapids’ main streets, but the street parking seems more than ample.

Overall my trip to Schuberg’s was nice. It is a very solid town bar—nothing too special, but it’s not going for it.

Big Rapids itself seems to be decent town, and Schuberg’s reflects that with a solid town bar—note to all the mayors in the world. If you want happy citizens, make sure you have good bars, it makes things easier.

I started walked by to my car, loosening my tie a little and looking at my faithful horse (read Buick Century), heading back out to see wherever my travels will take me next. Continuing on my mission to civilize.

Or at least tell you all where to get a drink, that works too. 

Flanagan's Irish Pub: The U, downtown and flagging down the bartender

Flanagan's Irish Pub is located at 139 Pearl St. SW
in Grand Rapids, Michigan 

Looking to break new barriers, I set a new Barstool Banter standard Saturday night—I went to a downtown bar on a Saturday night.

Just about whenever you go, from the small town country bar to the big city bar, Saturday night is bar night, especially wherever the town square is.

After getting out relatively early on a Saturday night, I decided to take the short walk to Flanagan’s Irish Pub, located here.

Judging by the name Flanagan’s, I was expecting a nice Irish pub feeling, such as I experienced at Connor O’Neil’s in Ann Arbor. 

Alas, that was anything but I experienced at Flanagan’s.

Now, that is not to say that I did not have a great time at the bar. On the contrary, I found the experienced rather enjoyable. However, it was still one of those things where expectations didn’t meet the grade.

See, for those of you that are devoted readers (I thank you kindly) I’m all about bar knowing what kind of bar you are, and sticking to it.

If you are presenting yourself as an Irish bar (which with the shamrock for an apostrophe and the sign for Guinness in the front window, I’m guessing you are), be an Irish bar.

In order to be an Irish bar, you need to get some things right.

First, say no to the D.J.

D.J.s are fine, just not in an ‘Irish’ bar. Either play normal bar music over the speakers, or play some traditional Irish music. ‘I’m all about that bass’ is a fine song, but it ruins the whole Celtic feeling. And take that with heart from a person named Daniel Patrick Joseph Meloy—hint, hint, I know a thing or two (or twenty) about being Irish).

Second, it is one thing to have a nice special on Guinness. But if you want to sell the Irish thing, make sure you have some stew brewing up for the weary bar goer.

Here is the thing about being Irish. You can’t cater to other people. The Irish don’t cater. They just do, and come hell or high water we wait for other to react to us. It’s led to some fun results (I hear the Easter Rising was a blast) and that is my problem with Flanagan’s—it caters too much.

I walked into Flanagan’s and had to pay a $3 cover. OK, it’s a Saturday night. And paying a cover for a downtown bar is more than reasonable. I should consider myself lucky for walking to the bar, and avoiding the pain that is downtown parking in Grand Rapids.

I was lucky to pull up to a seat at the bar and ordered a Guinness.

In terms of the ‘Irish-ness’ factor, safe to say Flanagan’s falls short. No Irish flag, no hurling jerseys, no portrait of Michael Collins (by the by, please watch the film Michael Collins. If I ever find a girl that wants to marry me, I so want to name one of our sons Michael Collins Meloy, so yes, being a nerd might be a prerequisite for my potential future wife).

But as a stand-alone bar, Flanagan’s is a nice place. It has a good scene, plenty of beautiful-looking people dressed to the 9’s enjoying the downtown Grand Rapids scene, and the bar staff was very friendly.

As a I sat at the bar, a person in a Cincinnati Bengals ‘ugly Christmas sweater’ commented on ‘The U- part 2’ 30-for-30 documentary. It was on the part where Ohio State was beating the University of Miami for the 2002 national championships—remember when the Big Ten was good at football?

It was going over some of the more ‘questionable’ moments that led to OSU’s victory. In retrospect, Ohio State was holy crap lucky to win that one.

The guy next to me (I’m guessing he was from Ohio, why else would anyone voluntarily wear Bengals gear, said ‘man, we were lucky to win that one).

I nodded in agreement and was about to talk to him, but then a girl in another ugly Christmas sweater came up to them and they started making out (I guess we were done talking). Then I realized the problem with downtown bars on the weekend.

They are great if you are either are in a relationships, or going out with a group of friends. But they are terrible if you are out by yourself.

This is why we can’t have nice things!!!

The bar was mostly filled with couples or people in groups. So the amount of people that were interested in talking with someone they didn’t know was not that great. Which to me, is the whole point of going to the bar, to meet new people and find out what they think—hell, that’s why this blog exists in the first place (here’s to you crazy Call of Duty player at the Blue Leprechaun).

So, I spent most of my time at the bar looking at other people either with their significant others--not minding the couple that were making out right next to me, because that would be rude on my part.

I ordered a Rochester HillsMilkshake Stout (which was all sorts of delicious) for my next beer, while a line behind me was starting to form.

Flanagan’s doesn’t have much in terms of an ‘ordering station’ where people just walk up to wherever they can to order a beer. That’s when I got a little bit intrigued when a young women was all the sudden standing right next to me, but it turns out that the open space to my right was the best place get a hold of the bar staff’s attention. (Sad says for me).

Turns out the young lady was ordering a round of Bud Lights and Miller Lites (Ah, she wasn’t my type, it wouldn’t have worked out to start with) and headed back to her gaggle of friends.

I went back to drinking my Milkshake Stout while watching the Irish now tear up Florida State in basketball (who knew ACC basketball was so easy), while people came and went to the open space at the bar ordering drinks.

I tried to start small conversations with them, usually just the friendly ‘hello’ or ‘how’s it going’. God talking to strangers is just terrible. Why do I do that to myself……need to look into that.

Some of them were polite enough to have small talk, but again, being a downtown bar on a weekend, just about everybody was with a group of friends, so chatting it up with the single journalist at the bar is not up there on the “Things to do on Saturday” list.

But I did take enjoyment in watching the different techniques people use to get the bartenders attention.

In third place you have the stereotypical female strategy: Leaning over while wearing a dress to get the bartender’s attention (smiling isn’t required, but usually helps). This mostly worked on the one dude working at the bar (surprise, surprise) but had a curious kickback. Just about every female bartender knew what the girl was trying to do and was repelled by the strategy. So while girls using their natural curves to get a drink quicker than most is usually a solid strategy, there is remarkably a downside.

Second place goes to the dude with his girlfriend. This son of a bitch has three problems: One, he needs to remember the stupid cocktail his girlfriend wants. Two, he needs to keep an arm around his girlfriend at all times (outside advice to all couples: You do not need to touch each other all the time, it’s OK to walk to the opposite side of the room from time to time. And usually, if you are in a crowded space—like the place where everybody who wants a drink at a bar is gathering—it is a bad strategy to insist on being tied to the hip). And finally No. 3, he has to balance getting the attention of a bartender, while also paying attention to his girlfriend—poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

The two were close to me (read: both of them were either touching my seat or my actually body) for a rather uncomfortable about of time for being strangers—five minutes. The guy was implementing the classic wave a $20 bill strategy. But on a night where bartenders are slammed, seeing another piece of currency on a night when they have handled over hundreds of dollars didn’t really seem to excite them, shocking I know.

After the fifth minute of them being painfully close to me, the guy broke down and mentioned to Notre Dame looked good in basketball this year. Sports, the always dependable ice breaker, even for those who know nothing about them—just pretend.

Eventually the two were eventually severed after the dude and I talked a little about the game. The chick he was with didn’t seem impressed that we were talking while they were waiting for their drinks (I take it she was more than satisfied with silently standing next to me for five minutes). I felt it was odd that she was getting upset, where were they doing, the place is packed, might as well start of conversation.

But the award for best bartender attention grabbing tactic goes to the ‘wait in silence in a black dress and act like the world owes you’ technique. Now, it’s not the best because it worked really well—just the opposite, it didn’t work at all.

But it wins the best because it entertained me the most, and isn’t that what really matters?

There was this young lady (probably my age-ish) in a black dress. She was on her phone while standing next to me, waiting to grab a drink. She then commented (not to me directly, but I think I was the only one who heard it ‘is it really eavesdropping if they are standing next to you?) “Like, when am I’m going to get service.” ‘Hopefully never’ I replied…..inside my head.

I think she was with a group of friends, young, attractive female at a bar on a Saturday night, with friends is a pretty safe bet. But was by herself ordering drinking. I asked how’s it going, but I don’t think she heard me (there was a D.J, after all) or she was ignoring me (because I’m the guy at the bar, after all). Instead she was staring at the phone, not having it click that maybe, just maybe, giving someone eye contact might help them give a damn about you in this situation. 

 She waited another minute before blurting out that the service was terrible. Seeing how this was going nowhere for me (note to self: be taller), and I desperately wanted to get away from this woman. 

So I pulled out my wallet to get my card out, got the attention of one of the bartenders and asked for another Guinness and my tab (I have this weird three beer rule when I do posts. Three just seems like a solid enough number to show you tried something new, so I like the number. Something Jack White and I believe in, I guess).

Now, how was I able to the bartender’s attention so quickly you might ask. Simple: Sit at the damn bar!!!

From my experiences, bartenders seem to give preference to those who sit at the bar. Why, because people who sit at the bar humanize the bartender more. Unlike those who never sit at the bar (yes, I realize I’m being unfair to those in groups, but I’ll explain latter), people who choose to sit at the bar can build a rapport with the bartender, if it is just ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.

Also, people at the bar can do a better job with keeping tabs on things. They know who is busy and who is not, how many people are out for a smoke break and when the place is just slammed.

And (good) bartenders know this, so yeah, they will give some preferential treatment to those on the rail (providing they are not total assholes).

And if you are in a large group and can’t be at the bar, that’s fine too, just accept on that on a Saturday night, service is going to be slow, so stop whining about it.

Speaking of whiners, back to the lady in the black dress next to me.

When I got the bartender’s attention for my tab, I was polite enough to point to her and say she would like a drink. She was served and said thanks without turning her head towards me. So, I guess she was thankful, not too sure.

Turns out downtown on a Saturday night isn’t much of mine scene.

The music is too loud, and Flanagan’s beer selection is solid, but the specials for Bud Light and Miller Lite seemed to offset the whole Irish feeling that I expected from a place called Flanagan’s.

Downtown on the weekends are fun, but definitely a group activity. Paying cover is not fun unless you are with friends or on a date. For the single folk like me, stick to the towny bars. You’ll be happier; or at least not surrounded my pretentious chicks that won’t look at you.

I mean really, she could at least comment on the Notre Dame game. The place is called Flanagan’s for crying out loud. Oh well.

God save the Irish and Michael Colling (and by relation, Liam Neeson). 

Chase Sports Bar: 60 Minutes, pool and stock cars

The Chase Sports Bar is located a 105 E. Michigan Ave.
in Jackson, Michigan 

Returning back to your roots, definitely more romantic in theory than in practice.

Last Sunday my parents took a trip up to Grand Rapids to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra (which I highly recommend), so I was left in Jackson to watch over my puppy. (Which is always a plus).

As evening was approaching I decided to head to downtown Jackson and visit on of the ‘newer’ bars in downtown Jackson, The Chase Sports Bar, located here. .

When I say ‘newer’, I mean a bar that was built after I left Jackson for Grand Rapids, so it was built after 2008.

And given it was a Sunday night, I have to say I had a positive experience at Chase. Sure there were not a whole lot of people at the bar, which I rather prefer for the sake of reviewing a place, but the place has everything a sports bar could ask for and more.

There were plenty of TVs, with the days NFL games and one dedicated to 60 Minutes, great thing about small-town bars, one TV is always dedicated to the news.

Also the large stock car hanging over the bar is a plus.

And that is the important thing when you dedicate yourself as a sports bar, or any other type of bar for that matter, if you have a theme-stick to it, damit.

I’m not going to name names, **cough, cough Eastown SportsBar**, but if you are going to go with a sports bar theme, go with a sports bar theme.

Have a lot of TVs, have cheap specials on cheap beer, make sure you have a few good pool tables. Embrace who you are and don’t apologize for it.

And to this standard, Chase Sports Bar lives up the measure.

Being a Sunday night, the bar wasn’t too full, but there were a few football fans enjoying this week’s slate of action, including a win by the surprising Lions (who knew, they can win in December after all).

I grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered Sam Adams Winter Larger (insert obligatory Ned Stark ‘Winter Is Coming’ joke here).

There were about five other people at the bar, which seats around 20, so I plenty of room to sit by myself.

So I used my free range to take in the scene of the bar. It was mostly full of Lions fans and other people getting together to sneak in a late-night, Sunday night drink (if you can call 7:30 p.m. late night).

I drank my Winter Lager in peace while watching the Seattle Seakhawks dispatch the Philadelphia Eagles, remember when the ‘experts’ thought college coaches couldn’t coach in the NFL, yeah, neither do I.

I finished my beer when I heard the all too familiar ‘crack’ of a cue ball hitting a rack of ball.

Yep, I’m drinking alone in Jackson, and pool is playing, there is only one place this is going. I orchard a Fat Tire and took my beer upstairs to the tables and began my night of pool playing in Jackson.

A quick thesis on pool in Michigan. Jackson, for all the post-industrial waste that it is, is a poolhall junkies dream. Just about every half decent bar in Jackson has a table, and just about every bar has its own pool shark to play with.

I only found this out when I moved to Grand Rapids, where I found the competition was…..’Friendly, but not talented’. But being back home, I knew there were a few who knew their way around a table. (Warning: this is where this post will more or less turn into a pool blog, sorry, it’s Jackson—not much that I can do).

I met a nice gentlemen named Laurence, and him and I began playing eight-ball (that’s stripes and solids to the uninitiated). Being a Sunday, pool was free at Chase, so that’s always a plus.

Laurence and I played a game, it happened to be a night where I was on my game (no seriously, I was making bank shots and everything. My friends tell me that when I’m ‘on’, I’m borderline scary. Sorry to brag, but I’m just trying to set the scene).

Luckily for Laurence, we weren’t playing for money—which I rarely like doing anyway. We played two games of eight ball before we switched up to nine ball, the official pool game of the United States (according to ESPN, so it must be true).

Chase has two tables, and next to us was a group of four to five people.

Initially, they came up to us and asked if they could take on winners.

Normally, I would be all over this (I love playing strangers, best way to meet new people---it’s a wonder I’m still single), but I found out that they wanted to play doubles, so Laurence and I said no thanks.

A general rule of thumb to everybody out there: If you see two people you don’t know playing pool, and you want to play in the next game, it is considered rude to ask to play for doubles.

Not that there is anything wrong with playing doubles, it’s fun when you are in a group of people and you really don’t care about winning the game. But in singles, you get to set up your opponent’s next shot, and you don’t have to worry about how your partner plays or feels—kind of like how people are single in life, it’s too much of an emotional strain to worry about how others are thinking.

Eventually, the table other table at the bar opened up, so the group took over the other table while I continued to play with Laurence.

After the second round of NFL games ended, the bar switched to rock music for the rest of the night, which is always a great for playing pool (I’m not afraid to admit to pretending to play guitar with a  cue stick while being drunk, but I only had two beers, so that was not too much of a worry).

After a few games of nine ball, I bought Laurence a beer, it was the least I could do after taking a majority of the games from him.

It was just after 9 p.m., and I’m guessing that is when the bar closes on a Sunday, because the bartender came up to rudely ‘remind’ us that we needed to close our taps.

I say rudely because I understand that people want to close up shop when it time to close up shop. 

But when you have a job where your pay is affected by how nice you are to other people, the least you can do is throw in a smile and a ‘hey’ before giving people marching orders.

Eventually, I made my way back to the bar, where the bartender remarked that I was ‘finally’ ready to settle my tab (keep in mind that it was only 9:15, Sunday night or not, I don’t think it was time make snarky remarks to the patrons, that saved for after 11 p.m.---at least.

I hate to admit it, but I did not leave the best of tips ($2), because the service was not that great for a bar that was not that busy.

And I always hate to leave a bad tip, it makes me feel like a judgmental jerk (Mostly because I am, but I don’t need reminding). But then I had a longer thought about it. Bad tips exists to make better tips be more valuable.

I’m not a regular at Chase’s, even though by all merit it was a solid bar, but the service I got left a lot to be desired.

Now granted, I’m not a regular, so it is possible that the service is warmer to the regular patrons (and rightfully so). But it just wasn’t that great tonight—eh, maybe I just caught them on an off night.

I said good night to my new pool friend, Laurence, who was in town from Louisiana, visiting his brother up in Jackson. (Yes, I realize there is a good chance Laurence’s brother could quite possibly in the JacksonState Penitentiary and Correctional Facility. But in Jackson, we surprisingly don’t care about that. Which is much to the amazement of people not from Jackson, who can’t seem to comprehend that the prison is nowhere near city limits---because building a prison in the middle of a city is a dumbidea).  

I did take a peek at their food menu (my parents’ kitchen was open to me, so I was more than settled in the food department). The menu offers a wide variety of food and burger options as well as other (affordable) entrees, pretty much what you would expect from a sports bar.

Overall, I had a positive experience from Chase’s, service aside.

I wish there some more people at the bar to get a better feel for the bar’s two-story atmosphere. But I did have an opportunity to play pool on a quality table, which is always a plus. (And yes, it is a stereotype to assume all Jackson bars have great pool tables and all Jackson folk know how to play good pool…..but most of them do, so it isn’t much of a stereotype as it is common local knowledge).

I settled my tab and headed out into the rather warm December night.  Great thing about downtown Jackson bars, free downtown parking. (Obligatory Caddyshack ‘so we gotthat going for us’ reference).

I got back in my car and heading back home to my puppy. Happy I got the chance to visit a neighborhood bar that I hope becomes a staple of my hometown.

And play around eight games of pool for free—seriously, that always makes for a good night.

Chase Sports Bar, not half-assing it when it comes to sports bars. TVs, food specials, pool tables, they got it all.

Hell, they have a stock car hanging over the bar. They’re not messing around. 

MGM Grand: Thanksgiving Break, party bus and blackjack

The MGM Grand is located at 1777 3rd St. in Detroit

Sometimes, you just have to splurge.

Relieve the holiday stress by spending freely, not worrying about the budget and just look forward to having a good time.

Sure, some may say it is ruining the holiday season. They say that it has taken over everything that is holey about this time of year. That day-after-Thanksgiving spending sprees are ruining all that we have come to cherish about a holiday that is centered around giving thanks for stuff we already have.

But damit, sometimes you just need to spend a lot of money alcohol and gambling.

What? You thought I was talking about shopping. No, that’s stupid.

This weekend my friend and I took a trip the MGM Casino in Detroit (located here), and I had chance to stop by the casino’s bar and the Tap Room, which features a sizable amount of TVs and an average selection of beers on tap.

We made the trip to Detroit to celebrate a friend’s birthday (Hi, Tara!!). Now, you maybe be (justly) criticizing. But Dan, this is a blog about bars? Why are you writing about a casino?

And I will give you three solid answers:

1.      1.  During my trip to my original plan for this week’s banter, The Office Bar, I forgot to take a picture of the marquee, and I was with a group friends most of the night (The original purpose of the blog was that it was my own personal experience as an outsider).

2.       2. I don’t remember much from my trip to the Office Bar. But I’m told karaoke and Macho Man were involved. Moving on.

3.       3. It’s my blog. I write what I want.

After my first royal ass-kicking of the night at the blackjack table, my friend and I visited a bar and got bottles of Miller Lite. One would figure that a place that is focused on taking others people’s money with a slim chance of giving something back in return would have enough money in return to have a decent craft beer selection. But you’d figure wrong.

To set the mood for the night, I was out with several old friends and was more interested in hanging out that doing any passive-aggressive judgment on people I don’t know…but boy how opportunity presents itself.

To make the night more classy. We were all dressed to the 9s and ready to hit the Motor City in style. Or at least look like we were not from Jackson.

Some people in the group said they loved the blog and wanted to know where this week’s post was (holy hell, people actually look for this on a schedule basis? Really? I told them that there probably wasn’t going to be one unless an opportunity presented itself.)

So there I was, with about a dollar in my pocket after getting throttled at blackjack. (Fun fact, sometimes, the people at the blackjack table get super pissed at you for making the wrong strategic move, even though it is not their money at stake if I play poorly. But there was a dude who constantly asked why I hit on 14. Apparently, saying that about eight face cards have been played a low card was bound to come up is a poor answer.)

You can’t play blackjack with a dollar, so I just threw it into a slot machine—if I’m losing money, might as well loose it all, right. Winner. OK, dumb luck. Winner again, up to eight dollars. Well whatever, I’ll just play until I lose.

$40 later, well shit, it’s time to go to the bar. (I got up to $48.95, but then went on a minor losing streak before walking away.)

All the girls in our group were going into a dance club and the rest of the guys were still losing money at craps (save one in the group, I think…there was a lot of drinking).

The MGM Grand has a bar called the Tab Room next to the game floor. I was able to sit down and order a Sam Adams, a welcome change of pace from the Miller Lite I had on the game floor and the half-dozen Ham’s Lights I had on the party bus to compliment the half dozen Jell-O shots. Safe to say I was in a good/loose mood.

The Tap Room features plenty of TVs for me to catch up on all the college football action of the day. Notre Dame lost again, take a drink.

Two seats to my right were two gentlemen going over failed strategies with video poker. It seems their first mistake was playing video poker—something that could not be overcome. Eventually it turned into a bit of a scuffle between the two, until one them yell ‘Yo man, you need to cool, one of them is sitting right there’. I looked to my left to find the casino employee there were referring to, but then I realized that I was wearing a tie and blazer, and they thought I worked at the casino.

They had worried looks on their faces, but when I shook my head and continued drinking, they realized I was not employee. I was too tipsy to go along with a charade, but I think they were too drunk to figure out I didn’t work there.

I still had about 35 dollars left, so instead of drinking I decided to try blackjack again. Again, bad decision making while being drunk. But that pretty much summed up my entire experience in Jackson over Thanksgiving Break……..but that’s for another post……if I get around to it.  

I did fairly better with my second trip, leaving the table with 20 dollars. So yes, I did still lose 15 dollars on the trip, but that beats what I normally walk out of casino with. Hint: It’s what Jon Snow knows. (RIP Ygritte…..oops, spoilers.)

I spent the rest of trip at the MGM taking in the atmosphere and trying to help my friends gather together the rest of my more drunk friends to make our bus back home.

You will not find much friendlier wait staff at a casino, but I suppose that is to be expected. The happier people are, the more they are will to spend money.

Smoking is legal in casinos, so those who are anti-smoking crusaders might not enjoy the experience (but I’ll go out on a limb and say that those who find smoking horrible don’t have a positive view on gambling as well).

Eventually, we did gather all the member of our group and waited outside for our bus. And we waited, and waited, and…holy hell it’s cold outside, where’s the damn bus. It was all sorts of cold in Detroit at 2 a.m., but our driver was too much in a hurry to pick us up. Causing some of our more “spirited” member of the group to walk towards the bus—turns out it was the wrong bus.

Finally (30 minutes later) the bus arrived. I think the dude asked for a tip, safe to say it did not work out so well for him.  

The rest of the trip was filled with drinking more Ham’s (seriously, its costs only a quarter a can!!) and a lot of loud music. It was really late, and I was ready for a nap. (I know, I’m like a 5-year-old. But when I was a child, I was the kid who always appreciated nap time).

Eventually the bus arrived at my friend’s house, where I crashed for the night. After spending the night in a casino and blowing over a hundred dollars in a suit, we ended our super classy night the only way we could. Mario Cart for the Super Nintendo Entertainment System (yeah, we’re that sort of awesome).    

Admittedly, the night (and this post) was/is a huge change of pace from what I normally do, but it is always nice to change the routine every now and again.

While some spend their day after Thanksgiving (I do not use the turn B*** Friday for the same reason Ron Weasley doesn’t name He Who Must Not Be Named) spending a ton of money for crap their loved ones probably don’t need, I took a lot of enjoyment out of spending money on booze that I probably do need.

It was also welcomed change of pace to spend some time on the Eastside before heading back to my home away from home.

My trip to the MGM. Frivolous spending on money that I should be saving-Yes. A complete change of pace from a traditional bar, thus making it hard to ensure that this post won’t suck compared to the other ones - yes (my readers should know that italics mean the heckler character that I created two posts back).  

Taking my out of my comfort zone because I have to deal with a group larger than a soccer team, which next to deer and the United States missing a World Cup , is one of my greatest fears – Yep.

Totally worth it and would do it again (after recovering from a cold/fever I got as penance for my week of debauchery and sin) – Damn straight.