The Sourdough bar. Right in the heart of the metropolis known as Ketchikan. It's been over a week since I was there, but I feel compelled to talk about it. You know how there are stereotypes of "fisherman bars"? Well this embodies that completely. First of all--smoking in public places is still allowed in the great state of Alaska. This really sets the mood as soon as you walk in. But there's much more. Wood-paneled walls as in the basements of our suburban homes in the 80's which at that point were somewhat out-dated and seemed from the decade before. Cigarette stained pictures of boats, boat wrecks, nets with thousands of pounds of salmon falling onto the dock, and of course fisherman themselves with huge white beards and 50's looking raingear all cover the walls in here. It's so dark inside like something out of a depressing film, full lonely people at the bar who are all there by themselves even though it's pretty much full. In the back the obligatory pool tables and dart boards, the darts look rather new (the digital, plastic kind) but the felt on the tables has certainly seen better days.
Other than the darts, the only sign of the 21st century is the digital jukebox blaring Bon Jovi and Eagles songs all night. The place truly feels like a time-warp, back to a time that I've never experienced, yet still feel a sort of nostalgia for. Why can't we go back to the times when there weren't plastic pull tabs on all of our food products? To the times when a can of beer at the bar costs 50 cents? To the times when the future didn't look so bleak? The times when people seemed more alive, less apathetic, less isolated?
I have never known these times.
