A few weeks ago, some friends and I were wandering down St. Laurent trying to decide where to go to grab a drink (or two) and enjoy some good music. We had shared a pitcher of Sangria earlier that evening and my bladder was rebelling. I was practically skipping down the sidewalk as my friends trailed behind me. So, naturally the first bar that looked like they wouldn’t refuse if I waltzed in and used their bathroom was where my feet led me.
This bar in particular had a small stoop with a couple people leaned against it – really it looked more like the entrance to somebody’s house than to a bar. It was called BarFly. As I ran in, I rushed past a pool table, a few bar-height tables, the bar on the right, and the blues band in the back left. Everyone in the bar was intently listening to the band, tapping their feet and nodding their heads.
I dashed into the toilet stall. When I emerged, I was able to take in more of the atmosphere: homey, welcoming, casual, cool. I was about to head to the door when I realized my friends were sitting at the bar, drinks in their hands, “this place seems pretty cool, I think we should stay here,” my friend said.
I climbed onto a barstool and ordered a Boreale Blanche, the beer that has become my usual choice (did I mention that I love Canadian beers?). Since we were seated at the end of the bar, we had front row seats to a hoppin 3-man blues band – piano, drum kit, banjo, harmonica and all! Of course they looked like they came straight out of the country – slicked-back hair, suspenders, the pianist had on a cowboy hat and I believe a brown trench. It was pretty slick to say the least.
Later, we all got up and did some swing dancing in the very small space between the bar and the stage. When we left our moods had significantly lifted and headed home feeling happy and relaxed.