Welcome to the inaugural edition of the Bar Nun. The title for this column was the idea of my partner, who laughed for hours (to himself) after he thought of it. I think of myself as more of a Bar Hag, but he claims I’m really not so much in the hag category yet. You be the judge. So since he calls me a nun due to my modesty issues, we’re calling it Bar Nun. He thinks this is an absolute scream.
Something you should know about me is that I love bars. Bars of all kinds. But for me, the best kinds are dive bars. You know them. In every city, there they are, dark, dank, possibly smelling of used ashtrays, whether smoking is allowed or not. Dogs &/or motorcycles parked outside. Tatooed bouncers. Cracked vinyl. Beer in cans. Lovely. I’m a total boozer, so don’t expect any reviews of taverns, no matter how charming & ye olde-y they are. Full hard alcohol service required to entice the Bar Nun.
A place that is particularly high on my list is the Lucky 13 in San Francisco, CA, USA. It’s in the Castro on Market Street not far from the Church Street Muni stop, which I appreciate because I do not want to go to jail for driving drunk. I aggressively advocate against my going to jail for driving drunk (or any other reason).
The Lucky 13 is dark & deep. It has no windows. The further in you go, the more ensconced in the bar atmosphere you become. Everything outside the bar melts away like a single ice cube in a hand warmed glass of Jameson.
Obviously, there’s a wee bit of a Halloween thing going here, but I swear it’s not a corny “theme” joint. The décor is spooky-cute with spider web murals & an extensive collection of unique rock show art posters. The cavernous ambiance is undisturbed by TVs or bar top trivia games. Rare lately. No food is served, but there is a super salty popcorn machine to keep you thirsty for beers. Sometimes, unpredictably, a cigarette girl-style snack vendor will materialize to sell you a $4 box of Milk Duds. Also, there is pinball. I care a great deal for pinball.
The kind of folks you will find hanging out at the Lucky 13 are modern bikers, laid back rockers & punk kids. Dogs are allowed too, but you will not find many hipster or scene-maker types. If you do feel like making a scene, take it to the photo booth, chumps. You can capture your antics on film with your choice of borders on the four picture strip, including the classic Wanted Poster. My favorite, of course.
The most wonderful thing about this bar, however, is that it hosts the most amazing punk rock packed jukebox the Bar Nun has ever encountered. A lot of the records are compilations, presumably made by the staff. It’s pretty eclectic. Last time I was there, the selection included Motorhead, a little Zeke, a smidge of Dead Boys, Teen Angels, some Germs & Cramps. Oh yes, that jukebox will rock you ALL NIGHT LONG, Lionel Richie. Don’t expect to find anything that’s ever been in the Top 40.
Now I’ve heard tell that some folks think the jukebox at Casino El Camino in Austin, TX USA is the best punk rock jukebox in the nation, but I must disagree. When I last looked it over, it was approximately 50% country discs. & really, nowhere else have I ever seen Zeke in a jukebox. Which is a damn shame, as I must admit it prefer it to Ernest Tubb. So check out the Lucky 13 when you’re in SF. They have a lot of booze.
In the immoral words of D. Lux Interior “Let’s go downtown & get beat up”. FP
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