Popination (part 1)
A vocab word where everybody knows your name...
Popination (part 1)
Pub culture and the 3rd place
In the spirit of my continued fascination with urban areas and Third Places, I want to treat this Vocab Word o’th’Week as an assignment in musing and reflecting on the many pubs of my past (and the relatively few pubs of my present). Pub culture isn’t as much a thing in the US as it is in the UK, for example, but we definitely have a robust bar scene that’s all our own. I averred in my piece on the Third Place that our ability to popinate is affected by car-centered and suburban infrastructures that sprawl across the country. (Side Note: I just started following The Deleted Scenes publication on Substack, and Addison has discussed related concepts often there, including this recent piece on mixed-use development. I recommend his work.)
Of course, I’ve only been a resident of Colorado, with only a couple mid-length stays in other places (Olympia and Les Lecques, to name two), so my musings about this whole thing is based mainly on my home state experience, seasoned with some research, readings, and observations. In other words, I’m writing from my own world, which, hey, this is called Zuko’s Musings for a reason, right?
I’ve divided my popinations into three chronological categories: distant past, more recent past, and present. The past sections don’t go all the way back into my childhood accompaniment of my parents to restaurant bars, where I’d lick the salt off their margarita glasses at José Muldoon’s, or sip a Shirley Temple at the beautiful bar at the Boulderado. Or my forays to a dive bar down the block with my friend in elementary school, where we’d commandeer the Pac-Man and Galaga and Joust games and eat all the Goldfish crackers out of every bar bowl, till the nervous barkeep kicked us out. Hey, it was the ‘80s.
Nor do they stretch even far enough back to my college drinking days in the glorious ‘90s, either–honestly, I bar-hopped and pub-crawled way less than just drinking at friend’s parties at our various homes, so. The original Old Chicago in Boulder was really my only regular haunt from college. That and Oasis Brewery, whose blueberry brown ale still lingers on my palate…
From the misty days of taverns past:
So the far past period of pub popinations begins basically in the early aughts. The turn of the millennium saw me freshly married, just transitioning from grad school and teaching gymnastics into my budding academic career. I was training heavily in the martial arts, and still active in the theatre scene. I was living in Boulder, which is where I grew up and also where I went to school.
Outback Saloon
The Outback is the only one on this list that can be called a real tavern, I think, even though its own name calls it a saloon. I’ve gone down the linguistics rabbit hole only slightly on these terms and it’s pretty much: use “pub” when you’re talking about something UK flavored, “bar” when you’re in the US (especially if they don’t serve food), and “tavern”…well it seems like nobody really uses the term anymore, though it used to refer to an old-school inn, where you’d get your pint and vittles and also a room for the night. Like how all D&D games begin. And a “saloon” refers to specifically a Wild West flavored bar.
So I call the Outback Saloon in Boulder the most tavern-like, because it gives tavern vibes a lot more than most others on this list, though it’s been called a dive bar for good reason. I used to go there frequently on my own or with my husband at the time, and our martial arts group would always go there after practice. It’s an old, seedy place that actually hasn’t changed much since I used to frequent it 20 years ago. It’s located right next to my favorite used book store, so every time I go back to Boulder for the one, I visit the other.
The Outback (not to be confused with the steakhouse chain of the same name) is very old—it’s been around as long as I can remember, and I moved to Boulder in 1975, so.* It’s a classic dive bar, with its pool tables hosting one of the more active billiards leagues of the area, a sticky old wood bar fronting the well stocked liquors and taps, and a crusty old shuffleboard, at which I used to play many a drunken competition with my fellow martial arts buddies over pitchers of 90 Schilling. It also has a karaoke night twice a week, and it boasts some of the best singers in the area–you’d think they held auditions. Their food is a wide selection of your classic mostly fried pub grub, but it’s very tasty, and high quality. They also have an old popcorn machine in the corner, which we used to consume with a little Tabasco sprinkled on top as a drunk snack.
*No, I’m not going to research all of these places for actual facts, forget that. I’m regaling you with my own observations, opinions, and experiences. You can easily look these places up if you’re curious, or in the area and looking to try ‘em out. So I’m lazy. That’s okay.
Mountain Sun
Mountain Sun is one of those places that just epitomizes Boulder. Want to know what Boulder is about, get a taste of the culture? Just go to Mountain Sun, sit out on the patio, and order an FYIPA (It doesn’t stand for what you think). You’ll get the idea. This pub is actually a brewery (though I don’t think the flagship pub in downtown actually brews on premises anymore), and I could have put it in both far and recent past, since it was a regular haunt the entire time I lived and drank in Boulder (and it’s kind of in the present, too, since I go there every chance I get when I’m up in Boulder. I’m just not in Boulder very often anymore).
I was going to attempt a detailed physical description of this little pub, but Mountain Sun is just too busy to encapsulate in a few words. I don’t mean busy with customers (though it often is that too), but busy with colorful decor. There’s a mini sky-chair dangling from the ceiling with a Jerry Garcia doll sitting in it, along with a weirdly psychedelic smiling moon, and brightly rainbowed painted sections of the wall in each booth’s cubicle. There are old hippie concert posters framed on the wall, and the menu is usually adorned with chalk art. There’s a cacophony of clashing artwork everywhere here, usually centered around a huge temporary chalk piece by local artist Bryce Widom, though I don’t think he puts his work up there anymore.
The beer there is exclusive to the brewery, and you can’t get it in any other taphouse or any liquor store, so it’s unique and amazing. Every February is Stout Month, too, and their Thin Mint flavored Girl Scout Stout is a coveted confection every year. Their food is fantastic, much of it obnoxiously healthy, but in this case I’m not complaining. Their hippie style extends to their policies, too, including all servers serving all tables, pooling all tips, and that they only accept cash or checks, no cards. Very weird. Very Boulder.
I used to go here nearly daily when I worked at the copy shop down the street, and almost that often when I was bussing back and forth between my teaching jobs in Denver and my home in Way Far Out East Boulder, as it’s literally a hop skip and jump away from the bus terminal. One of these trips, I was standing waiting for my pint to be poured on a very busy evening, when a guy sitting right below me asked, “Would you like to play dominoes?” This was no creep, but a guy who went to this pub as frequently as I did, who was there for his weekly meeting with his work friend for pints and chats and games. I accepted, and my dominoes games with Harold and his friend Scottish Paul became a regular thing for the next several years. Harold is still a very good friend of mine, even though I don’t get to meet up at Mountain Sun with him nearly as often in recent days. But he’s now math tutor* for my high school aged stepgoblin, and I’m glad that my fellow in pints is still in my world in some way.
*A word of advice: never get into serious dominoes games with men who are mathematicians. These f*ckers would count tiles so effortlessly, even while drinking, that I could absolutely never keep up, let alone win. Not that that was the point of playing, but.
From the slightly less foggy times of more recent pubs past:
I count this more recent past time as like, the 20-tens and teens, through the Covid lockdown dry spell, till 2021 when pubs started to open back up again. I went through an open marriage, an ugly divorce, hard work as a grunt adjunct faculty at, what, 5 schools total during those times? Something around there. I was also active in fight direction and choreography, and intimacy coordination in live theatres (and a couple indie films) around the Boulder/Denver metro area. I was a busy bee, and a burned out. I was still living in Boulder, and in 2017, I was finally able to move into a little place of my own, which was an amazing freeing experience that I’ve written about here before. I also re-met my partner during the end of this time period, so no, I didn’t have too much on my several plates that I was also juggling, nuh-uh. Why do you ask?
Terminal Bar
When Denver’s Union Station got all reconfigured and redecorated (and Market Street bus station closed), it became a beautiful destination itself right downtown, and the Terminal Bar one of the prettiest jewels in that crown. Even the functioning bus terminal itself was lovely, like a small European airport, and the historical train station above it was turned into a big ornate Victorian-esque hall, with little food stalls and boutiques lining either end, a luxury hotel upstairs, and the old-school brassy speakeasy-style bar as the highlight. It’s all brass and plush and dark wood and jewel tones and it’s got kind of a glam Victorian vibe.
Don’t ask me why I became a regular here: its bartenders were inattentive* if beautifully dressed, and all the drinks were overpriced. But it was such a cool place to go, and such good people-watching, and they had …how many taps? More than 20. I’m not gonna look it up. And there it was, at either end of my bus commutes from Boulder to Denver and back again. So why not? Too bad it descended into fentanyl-laced decline after the lockdown. Well, Terminal itself, the bar, is still nice, and overpriced, and beautiful, and etc. But the bus and light rail station connected to it is so crunchy and dangerous, that even I don’t use it anymore, but prefer to cough up the chunk of change for an Uber if I’m going to Boulder. It’s too bad, really—that whole area went from scary to hip and hopping back in the early aughts, and now it looks like the pandemic has kicked it back down the stairs to scary.
*To be fair, the bar is set up really weirdly, with an order window open to the big hall, right opposite to the long bar inside, with the tenders working basically back and front. I can’t imagine it would be easy whatsoever to be able to stay on top of it all, especially as in its heyday when I was a regular, it was so very teemingly busy at all times. But still.
Backcountry Pizza & Taphouse
Ah, Backcountry! Only a wee twisty walk from the Birdhouse, with the best pizza in town and cheap (but an excellent selection of) draft beer. My home away from home. My Cheers. I did become the Cliff to that place, for sure, and got to know the other characters that would come in on lunch breaks or between classes (CU is just up the hill) or, to my mild worry, between clients at the tattoo parlor kitty-corner. I’d have my regular seat at the large bar, usually next to the bar manager, where we’d do the NYT crossword with whoever was the main day shift bartender. I’d listen to their stories about their car wrecks and dating woes, and they’d hear my stories about the teaching grind and the divorce paperwork.
This place has been around forever, though it’s been different things, usually more of a posh type. In its long past it was a high-end seafood restaurant, and later, during my grad school days at Naropa U, a block away on Arapahoe, it was some kind of mod overpriced bistro that I could never afford. If it had been Backcountry back then, I think I would have moved in. But hey, better late than never, right? And I loved having a good place to go that was affordable, good, and within stumbling distance of my place (Mountain Sun was just a tetch too long a walk away after a long day). And I was friends with all the bartenders and it was always such a comfy place to be. I never go there anymore, as it’s a little bit awkward when I’m not literally living a block away, or going to school there, or the like. I should make an effort to pop in next time I’m in Boulder to see if I recognize anyone working there anymore. I’ll let you know.
Part 2 of my Popination Rumination coming next week!
More recent and present popinations will be described! Musings on the Third Place and what it means to be a pub regular! Descriptions of beers and good spirits and an unusual fashion show! I can’t wait! But I will! See you then!