A bar always scores points when the bartender asks my name ... and remembers it ... before I've ever tipped him. That happened the other day when I stopped into Flanagan's Sports Pub and Eatery, a neighborhood bar at the southwest corner of 434 and 436.
Arriving: I've driven past Flanagan's about a hundred times, but never stopped in. Maybe it's the blackout window tinting. You usually only get that at massage parlors and dirty bookstores. Nothing unwholesome here though -- just beer, hard liquor and cigarettes.
Inside it's a standard sports bar decor with electronic dartboards and a single pool table in the back. The TVs aren't huge, but they're big enough to watch the bar's fave teams: the New England Patriots and Boston Red Sox. Top three on the digital jukebox? Sinatra, Gorillaz and The White Stripes.
Scoping: It's a sports bar, duh, so guys are going to outnumber the gals by about eight to one. Bartenders are friendly, and not just because I came in with a hot blonde. (Honest.) They were even chummy when I came in solo a couple nights earlier. One staffer sat down at the stool next to me when it got slow.
Drinking: Flanagan's has four or five beers on tap and about a dozen more in bottles. A Bud Light bottle goes for $2.57 pretax and a well bourbon and Coke (average strength) is $3.27. Jager bombs are always two for $10, but I don't like to mix my cough syrup and my taurine.
Chewing: This is strictly a finger food place. Ten wings (I got 'em "hot") with celery and dressing will cost you $5.99. Spicy without tasting like punishment, the wings also came temperature "hot." Too many places serve wings that go cold three minutes after they hit the table.
$5.99 will also get you six fried mozzarella sticks with fries and marinara sauce on the side. Yes, the sticks came frozen from a bag. I imagine the fries did too. Still, whatever multi-national corporation squeezed out the cheese sticks made them thick and filled them full. The fries are crispy outside and fluffy inside. My compliments to the wholesaler.
Going: The men's room was renovated about nine months back, adding an extra "position" and cutting down on guys doing the pee-pee dance on the wrong side of a locked door. How do I know? First, it still smells like drywall. Second, I started chatting with a fellow drinker and it turns out that he did some of the work.
Departing: I'm not suggesting you make a special trip from Oviedo or Kissimmee all the way to Flanagan's, but that's not really the point of a neighborhood bar is it? Sometimes, you just want a beer and chow in a friendly place that's close by. For the Altamonte Springs crowd, this would be that.
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