The “American Heritage College Dictionary, Third Edition” defines “barfly” as: “one who frequents bars.” Simple straight-forward language for a simple straight-forward activity. But, like most things, it’s a tad more complicated than that. A barfly, while a habitué of one or more (usually more) watering holes, is not a mindless, writs-raising ‘droid, who’ll park his carcass on any ol’ stool and get to work. Nor is he one of those muttering sluggards who give fright to commuters on inner-city busses. He is not an “alcoholic,” not even a “functional” one (just try finding consensus definitions of those two terms, we dare you), and he doesn’t devote his non-stool time to panhandling enough coinage to subsidize his next round. Barflies are none of these people.

Contrary to the clichés, a barfly has, yes, standards. Rather inflexible ones, in fact. The bar which earns his custom must meet, if not surpass, certain criteria. To wit:

The bar must be welcoming. Barflies, like most of us, prefer not to patronize places where they frequently find themselves on the smelly end of a stink-eye.

The bar’s operating hours must meet the barfly halfway. Proper bars open by 9, or so, in the morning. Excellent bars open by 7. Bars that don’t open until 5 p.m. or later are obviously more interested in saving on their electrical bills than they are in serving the community, and barely qualify as bars.

Its drinks must be priced with an eye toward earning repeat business. Not just daily specials or Happy Hour deals, but inexpensive tipples every day of the week, open to close. $1.75 mugs of cold draft beer at 9 a.m. are one of life’s pleasures. Offer a barfly an $7 raspberry martini and he’ll give it a hard look while trying to figure a way to trade it back to the house for three real drinks.

And the drinks must be strong enough to warrant the trip. Wimpy two and three-second pours will not be tolerated. The barfly won’t throw a fit about it, he just won’t be back, and neither will his companions. Barflies like to know there is a drink in their drinks.

Finally, its bartenders and other staffers must know how to do their jobs and be proficient at all the little things which make regulars happy. Barflies like it when bartenders remember their names and their usual beverages, and will reward the effort with larger tips. Similarly, barflies enjoy a little conversation, be it with the staff or others of their own ilk. They have accumulated a wealth of knowledge and opinions during their travels and like to share them. Overly chatty people are politely ignored, and hunkering hermits are left to their own solemn business.

With these few tenets in mind, let’s take a look at a run-of-the-tap day in the life of a barfly...

Diary of a Barfly: Playing a hand at 3 Jacks