Nestled away, like a good dive should be.
Last night I met a friend for a drink at a bar I hadn’t been to or even heard of for that matter: The Daily Pint. A random West Side/ Santa Monica dive on Pico. Their website gave me a taste of what I was in for– a vast array of beers on tap and an impressive list of whiskeys to boot. This sounded like my mecca.
I walked in and scoped out the joint. I scanned some pool tables in one room as I walked into the bar area. Not the most spacious of places, but after all, it was a dive. For a random Wednesday night, the place was pretty packed. The clientele was across the board. There were small clusters of men lining the bar, from young looking professionals, to much older men. None of which, I might add, made space for a lady trying to order a beer. I would imagine these were the guys, and some gals, who came from work in the area for a few brews after a long day.
As I wiggled my way to the bar, I looked around for the beer taps to decide which beer I wanted. The chalkboard that lists their beers on tap was crowded with people, so it was a lost cause to choose from the list. It was vast, priding itself on advertising new beers to come. I was in heaven.
I saw the familiar Dogfish Head spout and figured I’d go for that one. After an embarrassing back and forth with the older bartender, in which my beer ego was knocked down a bit due to stumbling with beer names, I walked away with some minute IPA. For my first time here, I didn’t really appreciate a bartender who came across more bothered than helpful by the fact that I didn’t know which beer I wanted. I can’t for the life of me remember which one it ended up being because this guy was a low talker. Whatever it was, it was delicious. Well worth the $8.
I awkwardly stood behind the crowd of people at the bar, sipping on my beer awaiting my friend. None of these clusters of people looked inviting enough for me to make small talk with while I waited. So I scanned the whiskey list on the wall and checked some emails. After a few minutes, a loner sea Captain sauntered over and sparked up a conversation. He was nice enough, keeping me company until my friend arrived– and then some while we were catching up.
After another beer– yet again unable to hear the lady bartender when she poured another Dogfish Head, I heard the roar of karaoke from the other room. My friend, a fairly regular at this spot, reminisced of past awkward karaoke performances there. We drank on, finally getting a seat at the bar and I was presented with a list of Scotches and their prices. Johnny Walker Black for $8 sounded too good to pass up on a chilly windy night. Except that I would have to, because they were out. In a moment of desperation I upgraded to Gold, which would cause me to spend much more money than I intended for a Wednesday night. I secretly hoped she would charge me for the Black because they were out, but who am I kidding. I wasn’t a regular there. I coughed up the $15 and indulged in the delicious smooth nectar. I’ll spare the review of Johnny Walker Gold. It truly is spectacular.
With the last sip of my nightcap, it was time to head home. The delicious smell of greasy food got more intense as I walked outside to see the Philly Food Truck waiting outside, taunting me. I kept on going, but made a mental note that those mofos were smart and next time I’d probably be waiting in line.
Overall, I enjoyed my evening at The Daily Pint. It’s a casual dive, where you can just drop in and drink a delicious beer, but it’s a dangerous place for your wallet. Those suckers add up and it’s just plain hard to stop after one.
Roaring Tiger 