________ ________ ________
2017-07-04 / \/ \/ / \
/ __/ /_ _/
Let me tell y'all about a place I miss. / _/ / /
In detail. \_______/_\___/____/\___/____/_
/ \/ \/ / \
From the city, you'd grab a tram heading / _/ /_ _/
east. You'd want an 86 from Bourke Street. /- / _/ /
You'd head past Carlton Gardens, right on to \________/\________/\___/____/
Gertrude then left on Smith. As the tram
rolls up Smith Street you'd keep an eye out for Pixel Alley and half think
about wandering down this way later but that's not where you're headed
tonight.
You'd bail off the tram around Stop 19, Johnston Street, and head east past
pubs and closed storefronts, into grimy Collingwood. It's about two blocks.
You'd find an unassuming narrow, glass storefront, beside a greasy pizza
joint. You'd smile, knowing you'll probably stumble in there drunk before
long. There was only a small backlit sign in the window's bottom corner to
tell you the bar's name.
You'd step through the door and time would slip, it wasn't "'80s themed" or
"retro" it was just the '80s.
The bar was narrow, not much more than a hallway. As you'd come in, to your
left were a couple of larger booths. Brown vinyl bench seats and faux-wood
grain tabletops, on the wall behind the booths a large, picturesque mountain
scene, slightly faded. An old beige house phone sits on one of the tables,
close to the front window.
Past the booths now, on your right would be a tall bar table with three
chairs, cozy between two amber glass partitions. Above the table, on the wall
was a fuse box with a number of stickers on it, some familiar. Sometimes at
this table you'd find some friends and I, talking drunken nonsense about
computers, music and Dungeons & Dragons. Grinning and ready for another round.
But we weren't there when you came through.
On your left was a blue payphone. You weren't sure if it was a real
payphone or if it was just another prop and really you didn't mind either way.
Hung from the wood grain veneer wall behind the phone were a number of old
family portraits and other unusual photos and to the right of the phone the
first of the arcade cabinets and high, padded vinyl bar chairs.
Stepping further in to the bar now, arcade cabinets would line both walls.
Classics. Street Fighter II, Mortal Kombat II, The Simpsons, Rampage, Shinobi.
Above the machines were more family photos, paintings, prints and a large
collection of souvenir spoons.
Past the rows of machines now and, to your left was a tiny dance floor,
barely three square-feet and beside it, somehow balanced on top of Altered
Beast was a DJ booth. Above the booth hung more paintings, photos and prints.
In front of you is the bar proper, the wall behind it adorned with liquor
bottles, hand written notes, stickers, photos and who knows what else.
You'd smile and nod to the man behind the bar, tall, with a mane of hair
that'd put an '80s rocker to shame. With a beer now in hand (I'd have
recommended the Mornington IPA) you'd continue your tour.
The wall to your right, opposite the bar was more wood grain and mirror and
at the far end of the bar were more amber glass partitions.
Moving beyond the partitions, you'd find more machines, a generic multi-
game and a light gun game, and book shelves filled with a jumble of old
annuals, comics, manuals and magazines. In the middle of the "room" was a low
coffee table and behind it a worn old sofa.
You'd sink in and put your feet up a while.
Opposite the sofa, against the wall was a low cabinet. On the cabinet
another old phone, rotary this time, two old TV-VCR units, long past gone.
Through the tracking noise and color drift you thought they might have been
playing Beverly Hills Cop. To the left of the cabinet was a charming rubber
tree plant.
You'd finish your beer and then, with considerable effort, extract yourself
from the sunken sofa and head out through the back door into a small, secluded
courtyard. Plants in pots and vines growing on the wall, a BBQ grill was
against one wall.
You'd stretch, and throw your empty tin into one of the yellow wheelie bins
along the left wall.
At the very back of the yard was an aluminium shed. A portrait in pink and
black was painted on the right side, looking not unlike the man you saw
earlier behind the bar, the note beside it read "TRAV LIVED HERE."
