Uncle Tommy’s Dilemma
You: Is she finally going for clickbait?
Me: No. Unintentionally, if so. I do accept the fact that I may grind some gears though.
For those who are confused, Uncle Tommy’s Tavern is an Irish pub in my hometown which myself and many of my friends have frequented at one point or another.
The Guinness is fresh, the bar food is good, and the crowd is friendly (99% of the time). It’s even rated 4.7/5 on Google.
And I’m a little afraid to ever go back.
First, for any friends who might have decided to click on this one, let’s get one obvious thing out of the way: this has nothing to do with my ex. I’m going to send this to him when I’m done.
His working there is when I started going to Tommy’s in the first place, sure, but that’s the only role he plays in the context of this post. Moving on.
Being a regular at a bar is a fantastic feeling. Isn’t it? It’s not just about your favorite bartender knowing your favorite order. Though, being handed your drink of choice after a long day without having said a word is a decidedly delicious thing.
It’s more. It’s those things that come with spending time in a place. With familiarity. You know what’s good on the menu. You know which bathroom stall is your favorite. And of course, you know the people.
The bar becomes a community. And it’s lovely! (Your drinking habits may say otherwise, but let’s swerve past that for now.)
The fact is: this is a place where you belong. It’s as comfortable as your own living room. And so you keep coming back again and again.
And again.
And again.
In fact, you never go anywhere else — and why would you? You love this place.
There’s nothing wrong with this. Until maybe there is.
—
As most are aware at this point, I started traveling in June 2022 and have spent fairly minimal time in New York since.
It’s not because I don’t love New York. I’ll always love my city and yes, even the suburbs where I was raised. It’s my home. It’s just not for me right now, at this stage in my life.
And how do I know that?
Because I went to other places.
One might even say that I left Uncle Tommy’s and went to other bars.
And! I saw that this other bar stocked one of my favorite beers — one that Tommy’s didn’t! Another had a happy hour that could have saved me a good chunk of change. And, at another I made a really cool friend who just moved to town and hadn’t even heard of Tommy’s.
Then one day I came back to New York — to Tommy’s — and… weird. It wasn’t at all how I remembered.
I was happy to be back in a place I knew so well… but something was different. Something felt off and I couldn’t put my finger on it. The drinks, the people, the bathroom — it was all the same as far as I could tell. So what was it?
Of course, it was me.
—
By definition, travel is the act of going somewhere new. We leave our zone of comfort. We learn a thing or two. Our perception of the world and its people expands, and thus so do we. A few light bulbs switch on in our heads.
And when these lights turn on? We see things we didn’t see before. Literally.
My God, when the lights turn on Tommy’s at 4AM — every single time I’ve sat there through last call — I look around like… right. This is what this place looks like. And I’m still here.
This is yet another testament to the power of place. Places which have power over you — especially those in which we feel comfortable. For instance, a place like this might even cause you to unknowingly revert to old behaviors that don’t suit you anymore.
And by “you” I, of course, also mean me.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying time in a place that you love and feel at home. There is nothing wrong with being a regular at a bar. It’s a great feeling. It’s safe. And frankly, we all deserve that sort of comfort in our lives.
It’s also important to go to other bars.
That said, I’ll see you at Tommy’s when I’m back home, yeah? Can’t wait. Love you. Miss you.
ONWARDS,
Mag