Reading at bars: a love letter

It’s 12 o’clock noon on a Sunday. I have my green Kindle Paperwhite in one hand and my pineapple (it has to be pineapple) mimosa in the other. Except, instead of being at home in my cozy reading corner, I’m in a pretty noisy bar, sitting on my favorite bar stool while my favorite bartender asks, “Another one?”

This, my fellow reader, is my happy place.

People think it’s weird that I read at bars. I think it’s weird that more people don’t.

Remember, this is a no judgment zone. A safe place, if you will. But I’m no rookie to this. I know you’re reading my words on your screen with a slightly upturned lip, a hint of a grimace, and you probably don’t even realize it.

But the truth is, reading at bars makes me feel like I’m toeing the line between two different worlds. Reality, from the soft whispers of private (but public) conversations about a stranger’s day, or the borderline obnoxious laughter on the heels of a joke that may or may not have been that funny. And then fantasy, built from the strokes of a pen or the clicks of a keyboard, from the author of my latest romcom, or fantasy, or thriller, or whatever I’ve felt drawn to that day.

Now, you’re probably thinking you can get this exact same vibe from a coffee shop, or even at home with the TV on, or your family talking in other rooms. You are wrong.

Coffee shops may give you the same edge on reality, but in my opinion, they give you the wrong kind of reality.

Picture this: It’s 12 o’clock noon on a Sunday. You have your Kindle in one hand and your berry blend iced matcha (I don’t only drink alcohol, guys) in the other. You smile at the overworked barista who somehow manages to get every order right and still smile at the rude customers, heading to your favorite seat by the window. Except, you can’t sit down. There’s a finance bro yelling into his AirPod at his probably equally overworked assistant. So, you turn the other way in search of a seat far away from that scene, and you realize you’re looking into a sea of students, professionals, or just people pretending to be busy, all staring at laptop screens.

This, my fellow reader, is what I like to call “a dose of too much reality.” Because now, instead of reading your fun romcom, your gut-wrenching romance, or your nail-biting thriller, you’re thinking about the meeting you have on Wednesday. Or the stack of emails you need to respond to. Or the reports your boss asked you to turn in by next week.

Too. Much. Reality.

Now that I’ve completely turned you off from reading at coffee shops (sorry to your favorite barista), allow me to completely ruin home reading for you too.

Picture this: It’s 12 o’clock noon on a Sunday. You have your green Kindle Paperwhite in one hand and a glass of your favorite Cabernet (if you know, you know) in the other. You’re in your comfiest lounge set and your fuzziest socks. You’ve camped out in your favorite chair, and you even have a few candles lit, you know, really setting the mood. You’re just about to dive into the pages when you glance into the kitchen (you weren’t even trying to) and see a sink full of dishes. Trying to ignore them, you take a huge sip of your wine and look back down at your book. But then you hear the dryer stop and remember the mountain of laundry on your bed. And just like that, you have every reason to stop reading (even though you barely started) and be responsible.

Too. Much. Reality.

Now, let’s talk bars.

There’s an art to this, finding the perfect reading bar. You can’t just walk into any old bar on any old day and find the happiness I’m urging you to find. It takes trial, error, rinse, and repeat. And because I truly believe the world would be a better place if more people read at bars, I’m willing to share my own trial and error with you.

First off, the bar needs to be lively, but not a full-on rager. The atmosphere is the most important part of building your bar reading oasis (next to the bartender, of course). You want to hear conversations and laughter. You want to feel the light buzz of energy bouncing off the people around you, even if you’re mostly tuning them out. Think of them as background characters in your own story. They need to stay in the background, but close enough to fill the silence.

And this brings me to my next point: the people.

Imagine reading an amazing romance. There’s yearning, there’s a morally gray ‘who did this to you?’ MMC, and a plot that gives you all the feels. And then, out of nowhere, comes a sad excuse for a man wearing way too much cheap cologne, mixing with his beer breath and the worst pickup line you’ve ever heard. Vibe. Ruined.

You definitely want to find a bar with the right people. Preferably earlier in the evening, not midnight prowling hours. And of course, find a bar with a bartender who makes drinks just the way you like them, because the drink sets the mood just as much as the book does. A light mimosa with a breezy romance. An espresso martini with a thriller you can’t put down. The pairing matters. Whether that’s mimosas, espresso martinis, margaritas, the perfect pour of a Cabernet, or a crisp mocktail.

Here’s the thing. I’m not reading at bars because I have nowhere else to read. I have a comfy couch and a favorite coffee shop. I read at bars because it has a way of making reading feel like an event. A reason to get dressed, go have a drink, and be immersed in an experience of my own curation.

Sometimes, existing alone in public is enough to feel everything you’re missing. Tie in the characters from the book that’s currently taking up all the space in your mind, and you have everything you need to feel a lot less lonely, without having to perform.

Reading at bars has taught me the art of taking up space. I don’t need to be waiting for someone, looking for something, killing time, or performing. This book and this drink are everything I came here for. This is the purpose. And I curated it.

So yeah, I read at bars. Green Kindle Paperwhite in one hand, pineapple (because it has to be pineapple) mimosa in the other. Morally gray MMC. Grand worlds being built page after page. Whispers of a stranger’s day, and a bartender asking, “Another one?”

I read at bars. And honestly… why don’t you?