This is a handsome place. There is a lovely espresso bar on one side and down below in a restaurant bar. The bar is two small with only space for eight, but it’s a good looking marble bar and I would be proud to fall over drunk upon it.
The time was nine on a Wednesday and there were seven or eight at the bar, some clustered together around a bar stool nucleus like there were errant electrons.
On one side of me were two women talking about the troubles of finding day care and can they really expect their mothers to baby sit their kids if they move to Rhode Island.
The gin and tonic came in at 7.50 in a thin high ball glass. The bartender measured out the gin, which is never my favorite thing to see. It was a good glass. It had flavor that was balanced with the tonic. Tad too much ice, but still, it was alright for a Worcester Wednesday.
Sitting on the other side of me on my perch were three or four men talking with volume and inconsequnce. Another guy came over and greeted his old friends. A handshake for the first. A high five for the next. For the third he participated in a fake fist fight.
The Fake Bar Fight Greeting – noun – an annoying greeting among schmuckwad individuals that mimics an actual fisticuff event, but meant to be a greeting. Seen mostly in hipster bars and at monkey houses at city zoos.
I asked a friend later about the fake bar fight and he said, “It’s just them saying, look at me, I’m wicked fun. I’m wicked cool. I’m full of masculine intensity but I’m a really wicked nice guy. Oh god, I’m so lonely.”
So basically the fake bar fight greeting is just the Worcester version of Existential Angst. If Satre and Camus were Wormtown pissas, this is how they would express their shouts against a lonely unwelcoming Universe.
Perhaps I just got to the bar at a bad moment. It was a good looking joint and could be a good place to hang out and read your well worn copy of the Stranger or Myth of Syssiphus.
Lock 50 is located on 50 Water Street.