Gabors

"Listening to the sound of silence." - Simon and Garfunkel
"Listening to the sound of trash truck." Doc and Reality

Noisy buggers.  Its engine roars for a few seconds as the truck moves from one house to the next and then there is the sound of the hydraulic system as it shoots out a robotic lobster claw and snatches up the can, lifts it, tilts it and throws the contents down its maw like a fierce drinker throwing back a shot.  Move to the next can and repeat.

I miss bars.  Gabors in particular.  Working there was fun - I did that for a few years - but drinking there was funner. (It is too a word! Ask any five year old!)  The lighting at Gabor's was always turned low and when you entered you had to pause a moment at the door to let your eyes adjust.  There was a lengthy bar with 14 stools along one wall,  tables and booths to its front, and in the back, not quite a separate room, a couple of well maintained pool tables. There was a big screen TV for sporting events and a juke box stocked with both old favorites and up to date music.  The bartenders, male and female, were all pros, bright, and decent conversationalists.  The overall decor was Silver Screen nostalgia with black and white photos of the greats from the Thirties to the Fifties gracing the walls.  Marilyn Monroe and James Dean  heavily featured.  The crowd was eclectic.  There were cabbies and cops, working class and suits.  Twenty Somethings loved the place at night and Gabor's was a frequent destination for employees of other bars during their off hours.  Booze was freely poured and reasonably priced. The food was generally mediocre, but few people seemed to care.  Problem patrons, the too drunk, the belligerent, the loud, were quickly 86ed so the atmosphere there was kept safe and friendly. It was, to my way of thinking, what a good bar should be.

 I was sad to learn when visiting Denver earlier this year that Gabor's had closed.