Robin Wheeler writes for the blog Poppy Mom. She also has a strange attraction to drinking establishments with jars of pickled -- or possibly fossilized -- eggs. She reports on these dives for Gut Check every Friday.
If you run to Double-D's Den
the moment you finish reading this -- and you should -- you won't get to meet Tom, the world's friendliest bartender. He'll be at the Kentucky Derby. You'll still have an awesome time, but if you go in a week, you're bound to hear Tom's tales of the derby.
They will be spectacular.
How much did I love the Double-D? This is the first dive-bombed bar that I have closed down. At 1 a.m., Tom had to throw me out, along with a heating/cooling specialist. That's what happens when a Teamster and a Teamster Baby engage in a pro-union conversation at 12:45 a.m.
Not only do I have a new source for fixing my ancient radiator system, thanks to the Double-D, but I also know where to find a house-painter, a stockbroker and a doctor. (He's either a dentist or gynecologist, depending on who you ask.) Tom introduced all of them to my friend Courtney and me as soon as we arrived.
In the comments from last week's post about Screamer's
, we saw just how strong a community built at a neighborhood bar can be. Double-D's has that strength, too. A large barrel stands next to the front door to collect canned goods for the Bevo Area Community Improvement Corporation
's food pantry. Occasionally, they hold contests in which the person who brings the most food gets to drink free for two hours.
They also sponsor a golf tournament to benefit the association (June 16 at Forest Park's Norman Probstein Course). If you want to participate or donate items for their auction, talk to anyone working at the bar. They're all related and all involved.
Another first in my short dive bomber history: I revealed myself. Toward the end of the night, I asked Tom if I could take his photo.
"Is it gonna appear on the news?"
How could I resist such an opening? Especially after a wonderful night of great conversation, cheap beer and basking in the warm glow of community love and neon beer signs, it only seemed fair.