April 2, 2007. Jumpin' Jonny Lee and I needed a beer. Who am I kidding? We needed to go out and get shit-faced. You see, we had spent the last 36 hours unpacking boxes, wishing for couches, dealing with some really drunk house guests, and sleeping it off. Who am I kidding--we didn't need a reason to go out and get shit-faced.
It was Opening Day. The Twins were hosting the Orioles with Johan Santana on the mound and Justin Morneau coming of an MVP season--we had to watch this game. Without tickets or cable, our only viable option was to find the nearest bar. So, naturally, we headed towards the glut of blinking lights and homeless charmers, "bright new Minneapolis," if you will. One quick turn and we found a bar, kind of shrugged at each other, and went in.
I had been to the Uptown before. When I lived in the garden view apartment with Chris a couple of years earlier, I vaguely remember an Olympic Hopefuls concert on a night that ended with me holding a bloody roll of toilet paper on my face. Needless to say, I probably wouldn't have been able to pick the interior out of a lineup. So when Jon and I walked in, it was first impressions all over again. The impression: empty and kind of dingy. The bartender was really weird looking and the TVs were a little on the shitty side. But, we were in the door and they had beer without a wait, so we bellied up.
Morneau and Hunter erupted in the bottom of the second with back-to-back jacks off that bum Erik Bedard. Reason to celebrate!--we need more beers. The bartender, however, was nowhere to be seen. It was no more than 30 seconds later that the greased back, lemon-locked handlebar came sauntering over. With a wickedly engaging grin, he plopped down a basket of mini-corndogs and said to us, "You gotta enjoy some dogs with the game." We couldn't have agreed more.
The Twins won the first of their 79 games that year, 7-4. And the Uptown Bar won a couple of regulars. For the next two years, it was a rare week if I didn't make it to the bar at least four times. And I was never alone. Along with Yukon Golden Boy, there was Michelle, Megan, Sarah, and the Final Frontier. Larry, who Jon famously told to 'take his mo-hawk and shove it up his ass,' Skye, Dennis, and the countless faces whose names now elude me. (Who could forget Ron?). We drank with Doug, Tom, and Jeff, took an unfathomable amount of after-bar crews back to our place, and I even got to boo my old band. I only wish I could have witnessed more games by their legendarily winless softball team...
I've been lucky in my life to find places that have been willing to let me in and let me be me. The Uptown Bar is near the top of that list. So, when Columbia and Apple came knocking and the ownership took the money and ran, it was a major bummer. Yet there was chatter about a future location, bigger and better; they'd have the same staff and the same vibe.
It was reported this week that the future site has fallen through. It may be gone but it will never be forgotten. Long Live The Uptown Bar.
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