Friday, September 5, 2008

BWDW Special Edition: Goodbye Jack's Back

We hadn't really planned on doing a BWDW last week. Initially we were planning on doing 2 a month or so. Slick even planned on some gay camping retreat. But we got some horrific news last week that warranted doing this special edition of Bars We're Down With. We're ditching the typical scoring format because this isn't as much an induction as it is a eulogy. Jack's Back has closed down.

Jack's Back was also the first bar I was ever considered a regular at. Whenever I strolled in, Amanda (aka the best bartender ever) would have two Jagerbombs ready within the next minute. I don't even search the jukebox anymore. I just know that 7113 will get me Strokin' by Clarence Carter. 2502 will get me Night Moves by Bob Seger.

I've been trying to find a way to properly eulogize Jack's, and I realized I have more bar stories from Jack's than any other bar. So here's a few classic Jack's experiences over the years. If there's anybody reading this who has some, post them in the comments.

Jack's Back is the only bar that I've been 86'ed from and even that only lasted a grand total of 3 hours.

Owner Jack Morgan is a hilarious SOB and could be seen there most nights telling one of his 800,000 hilarious jokes, none of which I remember because I was usually 14 or 15 4 or 5 drinks in by the time he told me one.

His lady Sally once tried to kick us all out at midnight because she thought it was 2 am. After about 15 mins she realized she was wrong and bought us all a shot. We all needed a smoke break anyways.

The ongoing saga of Lynn's employment there has kept me entertained for the better part of the last 2 and a half years. One week she's there, then bam she's gone for a month. I never asked what happened, I just knew she'd probably be back within a couple weeks.

Jack's is the bar where a Mexican guy who I'd never met before and who didn't speak a lick of English walked up the bartender and pantomimed that he'd like to bum a smoke. When handed a cigarette he scowled and shook his head. He was asking the bartender if he could bum a joint.

I once relayed one too many bar stories to my girlfriend to the point that she thought I was cheating on her with Amanda and she forbade me from going there. So I broke up with her. I later found out she was cheating on me the whole time. Cunt.

To this day Wiley and I still believe some sort of black hole in the women's bathroom at Jack's ate the cueball.

And probably most important of all. Jack's Back is where I first got the nickname of The Duke.

The going away party was awesome. Within 10 minutes of being there some drunk lady was telling me she got a vibe from me that I was going to be a congressman or even President as long as I don't let a woman hold me back. Yes, Jack's was in full form Saturday. Nowhere was that more evident than during the roast session in the back amongst the most hardcore of Jack's regulars. I'm going to miss Karl. Jack himself failed to show up, which was disappointing. Everybody agreed that Amanda needed to be behind the bar but Action Jackson wasn't there to give it the OK. So we reminisced about the glory days of Amanda and Lynn's employment there. My best recollection is that I downed the last pitchers of Hefeweizen and Natty Light left in the taps. After an unusually early last call (about 1:15 bar time), I downed a final Jagerbomb with everybody's favorite bartender and headed out as my songs finally hit the jukebox. It was as fitting a goodbye to a good friend as I could've expected.

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