Remembering 4th Ave.

At the Gaslight w/ Dale.

I don't spend much (actually, any) time in bars these days, but I used to when I lived in Anchorage. I wish I had half the money I've pissed away in Anchorage bars. 

My favorite spot was the downtown 4th Avenue district, they had a great selection of working class dive bars there, never mind the occasional shooting. If you got kicked out of one, or if you were just bored, you could just walk down the street and hang out at a different one.

In my mind at the time, 4th Avenue was a magical place where anything could happen. I used to have a ton of 4th Avenue bar stories, but I've forgotten most of them. They were never all that great anyway, once sobriety set in. 

When there was music at all, it wasn't too loud, so you could better eavesdrop on people talking shit to each other, which I appreciated.

I'd always tell people how great the 4th Avenue bars were, then they'd join me and nothing interesting would happen. That's about when I realized my ton of 4th Avenue bar stories was more the result of my hanging out there constantly, rather than anything to do with the character of the bars themselves. If you hang out anywhere day and night, you're bound to witness a few interesting occurances.

Anyway, the 4th Avenue dive bars were a lot of fun at one time and they gave me something to do in Anchorage, but I probably did persist with it past its prime. Oh well.