Big John’s Tavern on E. Bay St. in Charleston looks like the perfect place for old coots to drown their days and nights in beer and cheap booze. They probably sweep the floor to keep the inspectors happy, but the linoleum is probably the original installation and is worn completely away in many areas. It’s a small dark place. They have Pabst Blue Ribbon in cans. But the regulars aren’t old farts, they’re young people from the neighborhood. They drink and laugh and shoot pool and have a grand time. We were the only old farts in the joint!
We are retired full-time cruisers sailing to the Bahamas in winter and as far north as Maine in the summer. Charleston is one of our regular stops both northbound and southbound. In the Fall of 2007 we were following the Boston Patriots through their astounding season. We had the boat at the Charleston Maritime Center for a few weeks and went looking for a place to catch a Sunday afternoon Patriots game. John’s looks like an old time neighborhood beer joint but we decided to give it a try. That’s exactly what it is – an old time neighborhood beer joint. Though it’s a pretty dumpy looking place, they don’t lack for TVs and they put the Pats game on one of them for us. We ordered a couple of beers and grabbed the available booth. It was near the pool table. Before long the pool players began commenting to us about the action on the TV screens. From there the conversations moved from football to boats to computers to ??? and more football. We laughed and kidded one another and just had a good time. And the guys paid our tab!
The following week, the Pats were playing a Sunday night game. We walked a little farther to a fancy sports bar” for dinner and then the game. We had dinner, but the game never happened. A crowd at the bar decided they’d rather listen to music so this “SPORTS bar” muted the TV and pumped up the music. We were out of luck because the girls at the bar were regulars and as unknowns we had no clout. We went back to Big John’s and watched and heard the game in comfortable surroundings.
There’s nothing like a place where the locals hang.
Submitted by Mary F
No Comments Yet
No comments yet.
Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI
Leave a comment
