In honor of Tandem Bar closing, here’s a piece I wrote in 2011 for a project I never launched that was going to be a vaguely anthropological study of the different kinds of guys you meet at bars in Brooklyn. Take a shot every time there’s an outdated cultural reference! RIP Tandem, I’ll miss your fog machine.
HOT BABE BROS WHO HANG AT TANDEM BAR
You arrive in a pack of a minimum of two, maximum of three other ridiculously attractive bros. One of you has a pair of round tortoiseshell frames, the other a baseball cap, flat brim. Dark, slightly ruffled hair of generic Middle Europeasterntino descent. You all are working on sleeves, because it’s the first of the Ten Commandments of Hot Babe Bros Who Hang At Tandem Bar: thou shalt be working towards a full sleeve. You are ordering a Jameson neat, or a Powers shot, with a tallboy on the side for good measure. Most importantly, you are ridiculously attractive and even though you like girls you will most definitely not speak to anyone but your ridiculously attractive bro posse. This is bro time, a special time when bros can just hang and talk about whatever it is that ridiculously attractive bros bro-out about. Skateboards, Finnish prog from the mid 70s, their girlfriends. It’s a Tuesday night, so you’ll go home early. 1AM. You all had a busy weekend. And Cam’s gotta be at the post house in Nolita at 10am and Matty needs to finish this design for a whisk he’s been working on for his masters program. Later, bro.