Читать книгу New York City's Best Dive Bars - Ben Westhoff - Страница 6

What is a dive?

On one hand, many bar owners resent the word “dive” as they don’t think it could possibly apply to their watering hole. Dives, they believe, are money-losing, decaying spots which cater to nasty old drunks. On the other hand, for young tipplers, the “dive” descriptor invokes images of a boozy Eden, gritty but pure, a place with cheap beer on every tap and whimsy around every corner. They imagine the regulars to be street-savvy gurus who, for what they lack in good looks and fancy clothes, make up for it in earnest, grizzled realness.

Both perceptions are hogwash. First off, plenty of dive bars make money—how else do you think they stay in business for fifty, sixty years? And their drunks aren’t any wiser than the kind who drink at home or in more upscale bars. As a matter of fact, dive bar regulars don’t usually consider their preferred pubs to be “dives,” and the spots given that description by the young and privileged are usually too fancy to merit it.

So what is a dive then? A place with cheap drinks? Certainly not always in Manhattan. A dusty, dingy hole? Well, some of the best dives are spotlessly clean. An aging relic? Often, although many newish hipster bars have done a great job at capturing the dive aesthetic.

Ultimately, I had to come up with my own working definition, something more substantial than “you know it when you see it.” (Although, you do. Look for Christmas lights.) A dive, I decided, has a stillness about it, an air that it is not driven by commerce, even if it ultimately is. It’s a place where nobody tries to “upsell” you, where temporary solutions—say, duct tape over broken urinals—become permanent. A dive embraces your inner degenerate, doesn’t judge, and doesn’t pretend that drinking isn’t the main task at hand.

Something else to keep in mind: Anyone who says that gentrified New York has no more dives is bonkers. Sure, we no longer have McGurk’s Suicide Hall, the Bowery haunt frequented by sailors and low-rent prostitutes that was thought to be the place to take one’s own life. But we’ve still got the historic rooms, the cultural diversity and the unquenchable thirst that makes New York a great dive bar town. In fact, there were too many great dives for this book, as New York City has literally thousands of dive bars. Unfortunately, I couldn’t go to all of them, so I focused on spots people buying this book would likely visit, mostly in lower Manhattan and the trendy Brooklyn neighborhoods. That said, the truly mind-boggling spots I’ve profiled tend to be above 100th Street or in the less glamorous boroughs. (If you’re ever on Staten Island head immediately to Beer Goggles.)

So, enjoy these watering holes, and don’t be afraid. While they aren’t filled with intoxicated sages, they’re not unwelcoming either. If a spot looks intimidating, just remember that your money is always welcome, and that liquor makes for strange barfellows.