How to Become a Regular
by Aaron Goldfarb
Illustration by Jennifer Baumgardner
“Haven’t seen you in forever,” she noted as I hopped atop the barstool. I thought that was funny; I’d last been there just four days ago. Then again, four days seemed like forever because I had finally accomplished my goal: I had become a regular.
I’d always wanted to be a regular; the only problem is, I’d always figured there were too many great bars to attend just one with any sort of regularity. That was my first mistake. So, earlier this year I decided to quit checking out the newest, hottest haunts each and every night and, instead, buckle down at one particular spot.
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If you’re trying to become a regular, you’re going to want to pick a local spot. Especially if you’re lazy, which, you probably are if you prefer spending leisure time on a barstool as opposed to, say, competing in Iron Mans. I lived and worked on the Upper East Side but, unfortunately, most of New York’s top bars are downtown or in Brooklyn. I barely have the gumption to ride the elevator to my lobby to check the mail, much less grab a subway to the East Village.
So I needed my regular bar to be a short walking distance from my apartment. A spot so close that any time I passed it while running errands I could peek through the glass and say, “Oh, well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have a drink.” Luckily, a great new place opened in January just a block from me.
Bondurants fit me like a glove. Craft beer is my passion, but I like a well-made cocktail or a few fingers of brown liquor on occasion. Bondurants had all that. Plus, it had a warm and inviting bar in the round, a rarity in cramped-quarters Manhattan and perfect for encouraging fellowship among tipplers. Just what I wanted in a place that I would soon be spending more time in than my living room.
Now your goals for what would be the perfect regular bar might differ, but should still follow some basic rules. It’s self-evident that it shouldn’t be a shitty bar even if it is uber-local. It likewise probably shouldn’t be too high-end of place. You’re not going to become a regular at Bemelmans unless you run a hedge fund or are a Kennedy. And, of course, it shouldn’t be any sort of niche place. Become a regular at Dave & Busters and now you’re playing skee-ball far more than you ever imagined.
How to Become a Regular:
Stay local.
Go during off hours.
Learn names.
Tip big—real big.
Be a good person.
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Regularity is the key to becoming a regular, of course. But you’re going to want to straddle a fine line between frequent visitor and pathetic gutterpup. Before Bondurants, there were plenty of great bars I visited a lot. I’ve never been a regular per se, but am a frequenter at uptown places like The Jeffrey, George Keeley, and The Pony Bar. The problem is, even going once a week to a bar just isn’t enough to gain that vaunted regular status. Even worse, I’d arrive at the bar where I was usually treated like a regular, only to find out Tuesday’s staff was completely different from Wednesday’s and none of those people even had a clue who I was. That’s a demoralizing feeling, like a girl you’ve been dating all of the sudden doesn’t recognize you.
On the other hand, you don’t want to be so regular you’re in line for the year-end perfect attendance award. Yeah, you’ll no doubt receive exemplary service from the bar—you should, you’re helping keep their lights on—but people will also start looking at you sadly, like any of the slovenly characters Billy Joel mentions in Piano Man.
Initially, you’ll want to start going during off-hours. It’s a real struggle to become a recognizable regular when you’re in a packed pub during happy hour, trying to weave through a suit-and-tie mosh pit to retrieve a pint. Those times of day suck for drinking anyhow. So go regularly earlier in the day, or super late at night, when there’s less of a crowd and you can actually get a seat and schmooze up the bored bartenders. No one attains regular status standing in the far corner by himself watching Sportscenter on mute.
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You become a regular when everyone actually knows your name—and, oh boy, does that feel good. Likewise, at Bondurants, for the first time ever, I made a true effort to learn the names of the men and women serving me drinks. That’s crucial. No longer would they be “Hey!” or a head nod when I wanted another pint, they’d be Steven or Caity. In turn, I shifted from being “That guy who drinks too much Blantons” to “Hey, it’s Aaron—that guy who drinks too much Blantons!” I had to admit, it felt good to be so recognized.
But, even without the introductions, the staff had easily learned my name because I was regularly signing large tabs. Look, I hate when people advise tipping big in order to reap future benefits at bars or restaurants. Like you have to bribe service industry professionals just to have a great time. But still, if you want to become a regular, tip big. Huge. The first few times you are at your wannabe regular bar, write a number in the gratuity space that makes you laugh it’s so large. One that causes you to wake up the next morning with deep financial regret. A number that forces you to return to the bar almost immediately to start cashing in your chips. Of course you will—but that’s not why you will ultimately become a regular and why the bar will now give you lots of free drinks.
No, your new bar will love you (and give you lots of free drinks) because, ultimately, to be a respected regular, you have to be a decent person whom others enjoy being around. Not some phony, conniving, big-tipping, trying-to-become-a-regular automaton who sees drinking at a bar simply as a crass economic transaction. Instead, you need to be a person who truly loves your bar, and truly loves the people who run it. When you become a regular, the employees and other regulars become your friends—your friends that can always be found at the same place getting drunk.
But even though your regular place might always stay the same, you might not. Just last month, after my wife got a new job out in Brooklyn, we decided to relocate from the Upper East Side to give her a closer commute. We now live in Park Slope, a great neighborhood with many great bars, and I’ve been exploring each and every one irregularly. But with 2015 approaching, it’s time to find a new place to attend regularly. And I think I have: Mission Dolores is just three blocks from my brownstone; it has an ever-changing beer list and the friendliest bartenders you’ve ever met. I was just there on Monday, but if I walk in today, will someone say, “Why, Aaron, haven’t seen you in forever”? I hope so.
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