The Thousands

An oft-had discussion in my house goes like this:

“Seriously, there are no bars here like American bars.”
“I know, where it’s all dark, and you sit at the bar and just shoot the shit.”
“Exactly – let’s just open one.”
“Well why not?” Etc.

That conversation has now been shot.

After an age of bureaucratic hassle, Shady Pines Saloon is finally open. Down in the underground space, your cans are served on a napkin, the bourbon is varied and Dylan crows through speakers. The generous, parquet bar beckons long seated sessions, the roadside Americana surrounds, and the music ties it all together in a way that forces you to stay. Indeed, so successful is the operation, we’re prepared to forgive the absence of neon Pabst signs and college football.