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Right off Main street in historic Fairfax City. 

We could hold a mini bar crawl in old town Fairfax, couldn't we? That corner of Main and 236, there's these three bars all akimbo to each other... and I know there's a fourth place just around the corner, I've seen addresses... And that is how we found T.T. Reynolds, St. Patrick’s Day of 2003. One has to make the token effort to hit an Irish-themed place (actually, one doesn't have to do anything of the kind, I didn't do my research and missed out on cheap Guinness at the State Theater, fuck all!), and we tried to go to cover-happy line-forms-at-the-cardboard-moose Ned Devine’s... but we went there with full knowledge that alternatives would be forthcoming. Our primary alternative? T.T. Reynolds.

T.T. Reynolds looks really innocuous from the front. Or maybe I'm seeing the back, or what used to be the front but is now the functional back, I dunno. The point is, I'm always driving around looking for bars, and finding lots of them that we add to our pile and then work gets busy and we drink at Franks Place instead but, but, if I was driving on Main Street and looked to the left, I wouldn't think "bar". It's got nothing to suggest any state of non-bar, I dunno, maybe I just need things spelled out for me. I see "Grill" or "Cafe" or "Place" and I get suspicious and look up their liquor license; but this place is all proper names. Anyway, that's just me being ignorant; I know it's there now, done and done.

Once a body is inside, all fears are assuaged. Oh, I should have mentioned that the name conveys fears of being some stupid chain restaurant, and their going to serve me fried mozzarella sticks from a color printed glossy menu bound in red plastic spiral. I mean, they've got goofy shit on their walls, but the effect is kept in check, just this side of tasteful. They've got a red room in back and a big big bar with lots of circular tables and a porch that's covered with Christmas lights and everything is ever so cool... I'm just trying to dump out everything I remember. You know what's so great about this architecture? Leaning room. I'm one of the great leaners, its so much better than sitting, I love blank walls and posts and the high mailboxes; one time I got overzealous and leaned up against a friend's painting on canvas he had up on his wall, no damage done but I honestly have no idea how. I want to live in the equine style, sleep standing up, the whole bit, except that once I went looking for some information on that stuff and now I can't get my name off those damn mailing lists, it’s a whole big thing. What was I saying? T.T. Reynolds has lots of leaning room... support posts, jutting wall corners, and if the stage isn't occupied, lean away, brother. That's what I did, eased back and enjoyed the subtle joys of a stage not in use.

Aforementioned stage is well situated, middle of the bar reckoning horizontally, so that a lot of people have a view of the goings on, and yet there's plenty of nooks and crannies to get away from the performance. It’s a winding maze back there, you get past bar proper and you're in a big red room (red, yeah! Oak is good but oak is everywhere), and there's foosball (not enough foosball tables around. I'll play foosball over pool every time, and not just because I'm cheap. These wrists have been touched by God) and lastly a big patio that’s all whitewashed and lit and overlooking a big vacancy in the middle of renovated Old Town, hooray!

Let's see, pricing good, variety of taps decent, wait staff friendly and at home here, sometimes just finding one of many corners to get away from Drunken Ol' Us, that's cool. Yeah, I can't think of a reason not to give a positive thumb. Well, later in the night I wanted to pop in and get a beer and some pictures and an On Tap Magazine, and the bouncer said, "Go around back, boys, this entrance is closed. But there's no alley access, I'd have to walk all the way around... needless to say, we just called it a night. I like that T.T. Reynolds has two doors, but I don't see why one of them would be closed off.

Brian and I ended up at TT Reynolds after trying to get into Ned Devines on St. Patrick's Day. No, we did not learn from our Mardi Gras experience nor, I hope, shall we ever. Fate would land us in the heart of Fairfax City - off schedule and alone.  Luckily, I had scouted out the area ahead of time and knew there were two bars literally just around the corner.

From the outside TT Reynolds is fairly well hidden. It is thin and dark and, although it has a large sign written in great vertical text, the untrained eye chooses to skip over it more often then not. It could easily be mistaken for any number of fine tasty ethnic restaurants that are found on the same block. But believe me, dear reader, it is a bar through and through.

From the warm brick-red walls to the dark mahogany woodwork, this bar has the warmth of a hearth and invites you in to stay for awhile. Squint your eyes and you could imagine yourself in a 1850's train station, sucking on a frothy mug of cold beer waiting for the 9:15 to Silverado. Back off pardner! This stool's taken.

The layout isn't the most convenient - the bar is long and thin like many of the old construction in this area.  You'll find stool and bar seating up front with private booths in the back. There is a large dedicated stage area about half way through (large for a bar at least), so I assume they have bands here. We left before one set up that night (although we did see a roadie looking fellow with a "fuck you you fucking fuck' shirt that was cool). Anyway, the bouncer said there was a patio but I totally missed it. With the weather warming up, that is something we have to pay more attention to next time.

Now, while Brian and I sucked down glowing green beers (note the date) I taught Brian all about "the ratio," that fine metric that can turn a sausage-fest into a balanced party. It is less about looking to "score" and more about balance. For example, you average Star Trek convention has about a 100:1 (your occasional Uhurua and Janeway account for the '1'). An Anne Geddes art showing would have a 1:50. Even in this town, which is supposedly 55% female, most bars typically have 3:1; dance clubs less, sports bars more. So, let's consider that normal. T.T. Reynolds was about 3:2 to 2:1 which is as close to an even 50-50 mix as you'll ever find and that makes me happy. It's all about balance.

While I'm on the subject, would any of our female readers please e-mail me and tell me why this is so? Where do y'all go at night? I'm got my theories, not all of which involve lyncanthropy, but I'd like a real answer.

Anyway, T.T. Reynolds has got the stuff.  I liked it, I'll be back and I'll give it a big blue thumbs up.

This is the leprechaun that tells Brian to burn things