From Tysons (you can find Tyson's, right?) go East on VA-7. Turn right onto Pimmit Drive. When you see a Subway on your right, turn in. Unless you've already started drinking, you should see Mark's Pub in the 'L' shaped shopping center.

The bar is a bit of a hidden treasure, in a shopping center that perhaps was supposed to be on a thoroughfare but is now eclipsed by the buildup on Rt. 7. From Route 7, you turn into the shopping center with the Tara Tai and the craptastical Health Foods market, and go past it to the second complex hidden behind the first. There, guarded by a Subway of curiously martial design is Mark’s Pub. Beyond it are a double set of high rise apartments, and one gets the feeling that most of the patrons come from this source. Thus we get this great territoriality, a finite set of people that solidly belong here. And that’s not off-putting for non-regular drinkers, it’s quite refreshing in our NoVA super-transient society. Beer is available by the pitcher in a decent selection, though it’s nothing outstanding. Mark’s also has a full liquor selection, though I’ve never been in the mind for anything besides a beer when I visited. It’s dark, it’s smoky, it’s pretty damn great.

What’s there to do besides drink your life away in here? Alright, get out. But on that note, this place won’t appeal to everyone; it lacks pool or darts or dancing or a big screen television or lounging couches. If you’re me, these absences go in the plus column, but if there’s one thing life has made abundantly clear, none of you share my tastes. I understand there’s a karaoke night, which I’ve never witnessed. Actually, I’ve been there on karaoke night, but left before things started. Their song selection isn’t great, but it’ll do. They get a good bit of local bands through the place (of the aging hipster playing classic rock covers variety), crammed up in the front of the place in the void of a relocated Golden Tee machine, a conceptual stage level with the rest of us. I dig the Be-Sharps, half for the reference, half for their musical skill. On those nights you may end up paying a cover, but Mark’s doesn’t have the machinery to strictly enforce this; I’ve come into the place two hours into a set and not been charged.

One of the unique impressions everyone takes away is the serving staff, and I’d be remiss not to mention the point. Culled from our neighbors to the East (-ern Europe, that is), your beer will be brought forth by a charming selection of imports from Poland, Russia, and parts unknown. One gets the impression that they’ve seen their share of lush lotharios, but they’ve weathered our collective designs without embitterment. They also have the habit of asking me if I’m in the condition to drive home (to which I usually exaggerate the meagerness of my commute, I’m ashamed to admit), which is such a such a nice change from the typical detachment one finds in area bartenders. I can freely compliment these servers in ability and demeanor without sexualizing them, but feel free to read between the lines.

Negatives? The regulars seem to fill about 70% of the bar’s capacity, so there does exist the possibility that a particularly large influx of one-off patrons might leave things uncomfortably crowded. I’ve never had a problem finding space, but sometimes it’s been a little tight. Also, they aren’t a mechanical operation; the hours of business are subject to change, and closing early might happen occasionally. Even on a Friday, I’ve driven by around midnight to find a locked door. But normally I’d have started earlier in the evening, an open reception is by far the norm.

Go spend an evening in Mark’s Pub to enjoy yourself, but also as a compass for the rest of this site. This is my ideal, the standard for which everything else is going to be judged. A place like this so close to the vacuum of Tyson’s Corner, one wonders how its soul hasn’t been sucked away. This is a hole in the wall, dark, dank, gimmickless, sincere.

OK, I’ll level with you, I’m going to review less and bitch more. This is my one half a page so that’s my prerogative. Everything Brian (to the left) said in true from the charming Eastern European wait staff (“how you want burger?”) to the dark dank décor. This place is friendly, fun and low-key – a good place to take your underage secretary or underling. Hmm, how can I say that and make it appealing? Seriously folks, any bar that has a stable of regulars appeals to Brian and me. Why would these folks keep coming back unless there was something worth coming back for? Course they could be like Brian and have nothing else but ethanol to lighten their dark days . . . but I'm sure it is because the place is good. Anyways, these regulars represent a large cross-section of race, class and age. Most remembered me the next day when I returned because I forgot my hat. That is a good sign.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Brian and I showed up just before karaoke’ and discussed the pluses and minuses of first generation Transformers. To sum up, Brian is attracted to Megatron’s “trigger penis” and I’m not. What can I say. Too many conversations head down evil avenues like this - too many cartoons and comics as a kid. That’s when the pitchers showed up. Good timing.

Plus #1 – Pitchers. They have them here. Few places in the burbs will and unlike Brian’s Mexican joint, this won’t blow your asshole our your Levi’s. This time round we had Killian’s, which is acceptable to salt-of-the-earth like me and super-snobs like everyone else.

Plus #2 – Only two televisions – neither obtrusive. Some of you simian fucks like the so-called sport’s bar. I say drink at home in front of you goddamn TV you anthropology study Neanderthals, I am sick of bars with television everywhere you look. Here you can check up on your sport’s scores, but it is easy to forget the TVs are there when you need to. Lowbrow fuckers. Incidentally, if I see another perfume ad while drinking I’m going to . . . I don’t know, have another beer I suppose.

Plus #3 – The staff. As I’ve said before, the wait staff is charming, and that isn’t drunk sarcasm. They actually interact with you as though you are a person and that they care about your life. I believe that unlike at strip clubs, it isn’t an act either, they hire good people who care about their customers. So good that Brian wants to be a waitress too (they *are* hiring)! Yeah, he would look cute in an apron. It must be tough being a student and surrounded by coeds all day. Fucker.

In summary, Mark’s pub = good even though it is owned by a guy named Ray and that makes no sense (go figure). In fact, thinking about Mark's Pub while writing this has already improved my mood noticeably. Give it a shot, it could do the same for you.

Kiss for good luck!