Here’s a pandemic sentiment that I find relatable:
Among the many, many enjoyable activities that are currently off limits or only possible as an uncomfortable imitation of their former selves, sitting at a bar surrounded by strangers feels particularly appealing yet distant right now. Everywhere I’ve lived, I’ve always zeroed in on some nearby haunt where I can show up alone and hang out at the bar whenever I just feel like getting out of the house for a bit on a Tuesday evening without making real plans. (It feels like a cliche to even talk about this, especially now, with nostalgia for everything ballooning out of control, but it illustrates a point I’m about to make, so bear with me.)
My latest version of this place has been an extremely dark sports bar that seems to pander to my exact demographic by always playing ‘90s alternative rock (I heard “It’s a Shame About Ray” the first three times I went there). It’s still alive and well, but currently can’t serve the purpose I just described due to the pandemic; before March, however, I basically treated the bar as an extension of my living room. Like I said, it’s a sports bar, and I try to watch sports in public places whenever possible—partially because doing so limits the total amount of time I spend watching sports, but mostly because it’s more fun, and sports watching feels like it’s meant to be communal.
As someone who has been doing this for a long time, I’ve noticed that the experience of watching sports in public places has changed in recent years, and the emergent behaviors are interesting because they seem like pure manifestations of how we now inhabit shared physical space and relate to one another within that space. One obvious development is AirPods, which I’ve discussed in greater depth elsewhere: They made it increasingly acceptable to show up at a bar with headphones on, seeking a solitary experience while ordering drinks and watching a game, perhaps still comforted by the warmth of other nearby humans. On one hand, it’s hard to criticize this practice, because it merely embraces the fact that most of us show up at public places to consume, not to meet people (how different is wearing headphones from maintaining an unbroken stare at your phone screen?). On the other hand, it feels inappropriate to acknowledge that even if it’s true—but maybe I’m just old fashioned.