Now firmly back home in the St. Paul area, Alistaire and I ventured across the pond (you know--that little thing also known as the Mississippi River) for a taste of Minneapolis and a smashing good time at Brit's Pub.
If you live in or have visited the Twin Cities and have never been to Brit's, you really should go. It's quite a lively place, and it's got a little something for everyone. Standard British pub fare (fish and chips, chicken pot pie, bangers and mash), football games (or as we Americans call it, "soccer"), and a lawn bowling. (I've personally never tried it, but I have it on good authority that it's fun.) Oh--and for those so inclined--yup, it's got the alcohol.
Alistaire and I met up with my friend Becky for drinks and some much-needed single-gal talk. (I mean no offense to my married friends, but sometimes you just need to talk to someone else who lives in your same state of being; you don't spend all your time talking about being single or men, or anything that silly, but you do share a common perspective on some things without any necessary preamble.) Until today, I guess I had never known how many people venture out for happy hour after work in downtown. Brit's seemed to attract everyone, too. The up-and-comers were there in their suits that were fitted "just so," or their matching skirt-heels-purse combinations with perfect hair. Those who were further along the career path had already ditched their ties in briefcases, swilling the pint as though there were no tomorrow, glancing up at the golf scores every so often. The hipsters came in with their carefully planned "I-don't-care" layers of clothes perfectly mismatched enough to look cool, but enough to still be a look. (Mind, there were not many hipsters. This was downtown, Nicollet Mall, not UpTown.) The summer cargo-pant crew was there too, along with the cute summer dress posse.
Personally, I had dressed somewhere between the "summer dress posse" and the "up-and-comer." I actually had put a decent amount of thought (probably too much) into what I wore for this occasion simply because I wanted to blend in. Why? I guess I didn't want to look like the country bumpkin' cousin coming to play in the big city, even thought that's exactly what I was doing. I am the school teacher on summer break trying to blend into the fold of the working city. The coolest thing was, I did blend in. And I probably would have blended in no matter what I had worn because Brit's is a place that oozes comfort, charm, and a lack of prestige. That's one of my favorite things about this pub. It takes you as you are. Somehow, I'd forgotten that on any given night, Brit's is host to all walks of life. It's strategic location (and yes, this really is strategic, as opposed to Pie Town!) across from Orchestra Hall brings in concert-goers on performance nights, bachelor/bachelorette parties on the weekends, and hungry visitors looking for sturdy fare on any given night. Brit's is near several hotels and other dining/shopping establishments on Nicollet Mall, after all. (Ooh! A rhyme!)
There was a steady stream of people waltzing through the door. Becky and I seem to have timed it right--we got there and placed our drink and appetizer orders, were served in a very timely manner, and BAM! The people just kept coming through the door. I wondered how many of them made this their "regular place" after work. The whole idea of a daily happy hour still amuses me, as it's not something I do on a regular basis; for me it's more of a special event, a time to chill with friends, but it's not "just an ordinary day." For this teacher, an ordinary day of work includes finishing teaching at 2:25, working on projects, planning, or rehearsing until 3:30 or 4:00. Or 5:00. (Ick.) Then coming home, inhaling whatever edible thing I can find ("Broccoli? Yum!" or "Chicken--excellent." or "Um, bag of microwave popcorn--it's easy. Ok! It's dinner!"), and then collapsing in a heap. I'm lucky if I can find my way to my bed at the end of it all . . .
Perhaps that's why I'm extra-primed for adventure in the summer, even if it is just to one of my favorite low-key pubs, enjoying the company of a very good friend. Sometimes, low-key is exactly what the llama ordered.
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