Originally this article was going to be a breakdown of all the bars I’ve been to in Boston, then I realized that might be too much when I was 500 words into this, and was still writing about the Baseball Tavern. So I decided I’m breaking this topic into a series of blogs. Today we’ll be breaking down each of the Fenway Bars and all of their glory. And by breakdown, I mean judging bars on nothing but anecdotal evidence and rambling about random topics that come to my head while talking about them. Also fair warning I’m in a bad mood today, so things got mean. Few people have the skill to work in a school shooting joke into a bar review, but I did just that in the writing below.
Once again this is completely anecdotal, so for example, If you want insight on the mixed drinks, I’m not the right person to ask. If you ever see me carrying around a mixed drink at bar that serves cheap bear, know that I’m beyond the point of tasting liquids. Honestly, if you’re a bartender reading this, the next time I order a rum and coke, please just leave out the rum. It’s better for both of us in the long run. I’m not going to notice, I’ll still pay for the drink (because debit card money isn’t real), and I won’t puke into my hand, which is a win for everyone involved.
But regardless, the Fenway area is one of my favorite places to go out. There’s a large number of bars packed in a close proximity of each other, plenty of street food to destroy my body with, and a plethora of homeless men to befriend while walking down Lansdowne street, looking for my friends who probably left three hours ago.
The Baseball Tavern
Easily the best bar in the Fenway area. Solid location, I haven’t been kicked out (yet), and there are $3 Budweisers which is big for me, because everyone knows I’m #TeamEmptyCarbs. If you still drink Bud Light then you’re just not enjoying life to the fullest. I’m here for a good time not a long time.
The food here is decent, but there’s a Domino’s, a gas station convenience store, and Tasty Burger right outside, or what I call “The Triangle of Death”. So that’s where I usually do most of my dining. There’s also always a lot of BC kids here, so make sure to bring your Klan outfit if you want to fit into that crowd.
There’s three floors and a rooftop, each with personalities big enough for their own review, so that’s what we’re gonna do:
The basement is where the bathrooms are located, so naturally me and my petite bladder spend a solid amount of time down there. The basement of BBT is a peculiar place. It doesn’t draw the same amount of sweaty creepy guys as other bar basements, but it still holds that scent that comes along with that crowd. Sort of the best of both worlds I guess. It’s sometimes rented out by a private party, and those are always fun to infiltrate and ruin. There’s also a punching bag game down there if you want to give your girlfriend the night off.
The Main Floor
The ground floor is honestly pretty average, and that’s why I love it. The bartenders are usually guys, which is nice because I don’t get nervous when I order drinks. The floors are just the right amount of sticky where you can keep your traction and center of gravity in tact. Lastly, it’s just crowded enough that I’m forced to interact with people, but also not to the point where I’m getting grinded on by other guys. I’ll do that on my own time.
The Third Floor
Similar to the main floor, but with less tables. Take that information as you will. Sure there’s more room to mingle, but I also can’t stand for more than 20 minutes straight without developing some type of cramp. Next thing I know I’m rubbing my leg out with a foam roller while eating a banana.
Best roof in Boston, if you disagree you’re wrong. The roof is usually only open when it’s nice out, but if I had it my way I’d be out there in February. Honestly global warming is the best thing to ever happen to rooftop bars. If me drinking on a roof overlooking Fenway means a couple polar bears have to sweat to death, so be it. Let mother nature run it’s course. Drill, baby, drill.
A great bar for live music, and by live music I mean a band that plays those same three songs with sound turned up way too loud which is always fun. Everyone knows bloody ears are always a sign of a good night. Oh look they’re playing Mr. Brightside for the third time tonight. Though admittedly I lose my shit every time it comes on. There’s also always a long line, so the veteran move is to see if the door that connects with Bill’s bar is open, and if so, go in that way.
Basically Lansdowne’s autistic brother bar with a shorter line. Bill’s is a hit or miss. It’s either filled with people like me who hate lines, or there’s like one Asian kid in the whole place dancing by himself (it doesn’t matter that he’s Asian, but it definitely does).
A country themed bar, which I’ll be honest, really doesn’t make any sense. Besides our casual racism, there’s really nothing country about the Fenway area. Except of course when Jason Aldean comes in once a year off his private jet and sings about driving an old pick up truck, to the tune of 19 year old girls losing their shit to his southern accent he’s perfected in voice classes in Southern California. And if he ever loses the crowd, all he has to do is say “Tom Brady”, and that pandering hack is right back on top. But I digress. I don’t think I’ve actually ever been inside this place. I’m just a dick today.
Cask n Flagon
Got my ID taken away here when I was 19 and haven’t been back since. Looking back, I probably should have known that a laminated piece of paper I got from China saying I was 22 from Maryland wouldn’t get me in, but I was young and naive. I’d say I hope it burns to the ground, but with my luck it actually will and I’ll have Boston PD at my door tomorrow morning. “Officer you have to admit it was an impressive prediction.”
You can drink beer out of yard glasses, which is cool but also a little gay. Sort of like skinny jeans. They have like 1,000 beers on tap, none of which I can comment on, mostly due to the fact that I only ever order PBR when I’m there. Blog money doesn’t exactly translate to IPA money.
Overpriced burger place run by that midget who’s in every Boston movie’s less successful brother (That’s a Wahlberg reference, I don’t want anyone to miss out). It’s honestly not even a bar, I just wanted to make fun of Mark Wahlberg. But he’ll never read this anyway, too busy cashing in on the Marathon bombing victims and talking about how he would have single handedly stopped 9/11.
I’ve never been in here, but someone shot a bullet through the front window a couple a years ago, which I never really understood because it looks nothing like a school.
That’s a good place to end it on. Faneuil hall bars are next on the list. I’m coming for Ned Devine’s neck.