BAR RESEARCH: DO YOU READ BEER BLOGS

Bar research is essential to bloggers in the know. Just ask me.

Goes like this: Mask up, find a seat with space around it, and say the magic words:

“Beer, please.”

Then retweet a Tapphoria tweet to get on the big screen, Big Time.

Things proceed from there, but go slow.

If you ask someone if they read blogs right off the bat, they’ll sense a sales pitch and shut down.

So there I was, perched and ready with a cold one in hand, when someone sat in the next stool over.

Since it’s a tap house I asked what he was drinking. It looked thick and dark and not something I want to see.

“Number nine,” he said, in a not very talkative manner.

The guy looked bright enough, so I asked, “Do you read any blogs?”

“Do I read blogs? No.”

“If you did read a blog, what would it be about.”

“I’d need to think about that.”

“It’s a blog question, don’t think too hard.”

“A blog about sports. Sports, or beer. I’d read that.”

Sports or beer? Perfect.

“What would you say about the beer you’re drinking now?”

“I don’t write a blog.”

“But you do drink a beer. Good beer? Would you have another?”

“I might.”

“Would you drink the same beer in another bar?”

Beer Travel Blog

This peaked some interest.

“I’d read a blog about traveling to different places for local beer.”

“And here we are in place beer travels to so we don’t have to.”

“I’ve found good beer in the Bay Area.”

This is where bar research gets dicey. Bay Area? There’s only one Bay Area in Oregon that matters.

“You’ve been to Coos Bay?”

“Where?”

“Coos Bay. The Bay Area. My Bay Area map stops at the Oregon border. Why? Because you don’t have to go too far to find the best beer in the country.”

“Then it would be a short blog on beer travel.”

“Except it would be in a bus, so that makes it longer.”

“A bus? Why a bus?”

“A bus is a working man’s transportation, just like beer is a working man’s drink.”

“You know beer is actually more complex than wine?”

“Do you know that the next sweaty guy who bellies up to the bar and asks for wine will be the first?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you know that if you sat in the chair at the end of the bar you’d have to fight that guy standing next to it?”

“It’s his chair.”

“But he never sits down. He’s waiting for someone to take it. I don’t see anyone in here who would want to take it.”

“Why would they?”

“You would if you were looking for a fight. You’d take it.”

“I’m not looking for a fight.”

“Might mess your hair up.”

“What?”

Bar Research From The Other Side

A young woman took the chair to my right. Some guy came over with, “So good to see you here. I’ve been thinking about you.”

They hugged, and the man left.

Me: “I’ve got just the barstool for your friend right here. I’m either leaving or getting another beer.”

“I’m meeting my boyfriend later so you can keep your seat.”

“Okay, just looking out for the people. Man of the people here.”

She put her phone on the bar and started doing a trivia game.

“I’ve got a question for you. ‘What is forty six miles long, Victoria Falls, Panama Canal, or Great Wall of China?'”

“Panama Canal.”

“You’re right.”

“I know everything.”

She asked a few more questions. The guy on the other side left. The quiz lady left after I got a few wrong answers.

An older woman and another in her forties were talking at the end of the bar.

The older lady looked like it had been a long day followed by strong drinks. She was a little drifty sitting on the stool.

“You’re a teacher, aren’t you?” she said.

“What decent teacher would admit it in a bar-rag bar?”

“So you are a teacher. I knew it.”

“Ask me anything.”

“Where do you live?”

“In the neighborhood.”

“Bull Mountain?”

“It’s over there.”

“I own two and a half acres off of 150th.”

“Unincorporated Washington County.”

“You think you’re so smart.”

“Teachers are supposed to be smart. I’m not a teacher, I’m a blogger.”

Blog Learning Tools

“Why did you say you’re a teacher?”

“You said I was a teacher, not me. You’re a teacher.”

The younger woman had been listening in.

“Are you trying to be funny, because you’re not. I was married thirteen years to a narcissist who sounds just like you.”

“I’m funny, you funny, now everybody funny.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Neither is getting wobbly wasted in a bar, but that’s not my business. I hope you call someone when you leave.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be you.”

“I’ll turn my phone off to be sure.”

“Why are you harassing us?”

“It’s called conversation. Don’t blame me if you’re not very good at it.”

“We were fine until you showed up.”

“So was I, but here we are. Looks like your friend is falling over.”

“She dropped her car keys.”

“Maybe you ought to find them and hang on to them until you take her home.”

“Maybe you should-should.”

“And I would if your friend wasn’t crawling on the ground.”

From the ground: “I heard that.”

The bartender cruised past.

“Another beer?”

“No thanks, I’ll settle up. You might want to cut off my new girlfriends, though. One of them’s on the ground doing the alligator.”

“We can hear you talking,” the ladies said.

“Can you hear this: Get a ride home.”

“Who asked you?”

“Teacher is giving you a bad grade.”

“Who?”

“You’re flunking bar research class.”