THE ERIN PUB
Bryn Mawr, PA
Spring, 1977
My parents used to drive by this place on a regular basis
when I was younger and it always intrigued me.
So now that I am home from college, I decide to venue in and see what
the Erin Pub has to offer. My friend,
Beth, comes with me. It is strictly a men’s bar. There is no written code but it is a known
fact that women do not venue into this bar. But we decide to go anyway. We are feeling adventurous and adamant that
no bars are off limit to us now that we are 21. We will only stay for a few
beers and then leave.
Conversations momentarily stop as we enter the front door.
Scanning the room, I see eyes and heads quickly shift positions as I catch them
staring at us. The stench lets us know immediately that this is a raunchy
bar. It lacks atmosphere. The place is
poorly lit yet there is some sort of charm to the place. Maybe it is the name The Erin Pub. I anticipated an authentic Irish bar with lots of
wool sweaters and Irish broogs and Celtic music. However, Willie Nelson is
blaring on the jukebox. And a dozen men are sitting around, smoking cigarettes
and consuming large quantities of beer in silence.
“What will it be ladies”, a friendly bartender asks us.
“What kind of beer do you have on tap”’, I ask.
“Schmidt’s and Shaffer.”
“It doesn’t matter,” we reply arrogantly in unison.
The bartender places a draft in front of us “ The first one
is on the house”, he informs us. “Welcome to the Erin Pub,” he smiles and winks
at us.
A man approaches us.
He looks to be 60 and he wears a veteran’s pin on his jacket lapel. His
eyes are blood shot and his breath is stale. He can barely stand; he is so
drunk.
“Ladies if I may offer you a bit of advice, let me tell you
that men and women are like salt and pepper, they mix together. Do you
understand what I m saying? You come into this bar full of men; the salt and
you’re the pepper. So you just might mix with some of us even though you don’t
like it. Understand? It’s only natural.
You come into a bar like this and you’re asking for trouble”. He looks to his friend and nods to him in
hopes of getting some for of affirmation. His friend ignores him.
We pretend we don’t understand. He draws a deep breath and is about to
continue when his friend does jumps in.
“Don’t pay no attention to my friend here. He don’t know
what he’s talking about, but do you know the definition of an Irish queer?
We shrug our shoulders.
“It’s an Irishman who loves women more than his
whiskey. Ha, ha, ha, get it. Women more
that whiskey.”
Bryn Mawr, 1977
