An ode to my neighbor, the dive bar

When my editor at Columbus Monthly asked me if I had anything to say for the magazines Best Bars issue, I couldn’t have responded faster. Living near the purported “Cultural Hub of the Midwest” has some entertaining perks and some annoying downsides.

All in all, I’ve got a lot of love for Bob’s Bar in Clintonville… though it’s a good thing I wrote this essay before mid-October when, the first week of the ramped up genocide against my people, a guy kept sitting on his keys and making his car alarm go off. It happened so often over the course of three hours I was moments away from slitting his tires when my husband and the bartender convinced him to leave for driving the neighbors fucking nuts.

I was at my wit’s end and for the duration of this egregious targeting of Gaza, it should be a hate crime to piss off Palestinians or otherwise add to our stress levels.

Anyway, I had a lot of fun with this one and I hope you enjoy it too. If you’ve ever loved a dive bar, this one’s for you.