Around the World in 100 Pubs

Times Square is like that remote-control car I always wanted when I was a kid. When I finally got it I only used it a handful of times and from then on it sat on a shelf, gathering dust. Times Square is built up as something big, something special, a must-do in Manhattan, but whenever I go there I’m surrounded by other tourists trying outdo each other’s selfies, the lights flicker, taxi horns screech. When I get there all I can think of is planning an escape. I ran from Times Square in search of some respite and Jimmy’s was there, Jimmy’s was the answer. A narrow, blink-and-you-miss-it, old-school dive bar, with walls plastered with boxing memorabilia and a piece of plain white paper pinned to the bar, surrounded by dollar notes, written in capitals, ‘Let’s not discuss politics here.’ It sums up Jimmy’s Corner. It’s an escape, a fantasy world, a break from the hustle and bustle of the city, life, politics and all the demons. A world of only bourbon, beer and boxing. A stark and ref...

As we walked through the doors a storm began. A bloke at the bar asked if we were sheltering from the storm or actually there to have a beer. I was unsure if he was trying to quote Bob Dylan or if he didn’t like our type. The room was dim and a bluegrass band, drowned out by the rain pelting the roof, strummed ditties from another time. The old-duck at the bar served us beer in jam jars and cooked our burgers at the same time. The toilet wouldn’t flush and a foul smelling sticky substance dripped from the roof. When we sat at our table a river started flowing at our feet – the storm was encroaching and I wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole establishment drifted away around us. Ice cold beer never drank so good. http://dinosnashville.com/