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Come On Brooklyn: or, Do I Have to Tell You Babies Don’t Belong in Bars?

I don’t think this should be necessary to write but:

It’s not cool to take a screaming baby into a bar on a Saturday afternoon and then proceed to breast feed it while drinking a beer.

I know I have an antiquated set of social mores, but last Saturday I really almost snapped. It was hot and I couldn’t figure out how to set up my new home theater so I decided to go get a beer and sit in a little AC.

I walked in, said my hellos and then noticed that my skin was crawling. Nails on a chalkboard. As my teeth were sitting on edge and after I realized no one was playing The Whispers or Ashanti- I heard it. A SCREAMING baby. My shoulders hunched, my jaw was tight and as I looked around for the miniature offender I saw- a breast.

I have breasts. I’ve even been known in some circles as a bit of a flasher. Breasts are cool and I was breast fed. I believe the only reason women have breasts is for feeding babies. But not in the back of a bar with a beer in front of you. (Now I’m probably exaggerating about the beer. I don’t know if I actually saw it, but between the screeching and the breast I might have began hallucinating a bit.)

I couldn’t stay. It was so cool in there. It’s so hot in my apt. The beer looked delicious. I just wanted to shout “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Must adults be told this? I’m clear on the arguments that it’s natural and all that. I honestly believe that. There is nothing more natural than a mother feeding her child. But it was a sunny summer day. There’s a gi-normous park across the street. If it’s the AC factor there’s also a library across the street. I dig you want to be with your friends and socialize- but we can’t do it all at once.

New parents want to live the same lives they did pre- progeny and I don’t believe it works like that. I don’t have any children for just this reason. I like being able to get shitfaced in the middle of the afternoon if I want. And I’m not begrudging a new mother a cocktail. But perhaps the two acts are mutually exclusive. The topper was one of her friends coming out of the bar telling someone on the phone “no, no dogs, but we’re all here”.

Like babies, dogs shouldn’t be allowed in bars. Actually, if a dog is found in a bar, the bar owner could lose their liquor license. It’s unclean. And really?

I know I’m not particularly dog people. I like my friends dogs to a point. Some have more agreeable personalities for me than others, but where my cocktails come from- I don’t want to negotiate dog hair.

So, Come On Brooklyn. I know we’ve become all warm and fuzzy and suburban like, but again:


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