A Girl Walks Into A Bar

Frito pie, Johnny Cash and conversation

I have to admit: I don't want to go out tonight. I've got an hour and 15 minute swim practice this evening and a fat lasagne I made yesterday waiting for me. What I'd like to do is head home after practice, have some lasagne and salad, perhaps even a glass of wine, and watch reruns of the "The West Wing" (Sam Seaborn is ever so dreamy, so full of gravitas). But duty calls, and since I've already arranged to meet someone, I'll go. At least we're headed to the Mean-Eyed Cat.

Here are things I appreciate about the Mean-Eyed Cat (the MEC):

1) On my third visit into the MEC, the bartender/owner Chris Marsh remembered what I drank and offered it before I could ask. (He may have recognized me, but a non-column-writer friend tells me Chris does the same for him.)

2) Johnny Cash. The words "mean-eyed cat" are actually from a Johnny Cash song and the bar is an homage to the man in black. And yes, "Ring of Fire" is on the jukebox.

3) They serve Frito pie on Monday nights.

Here are some things that might interest you about the MEC:

1) There's no hard alcohol. Beer dominates and it's priced to move: $2.50 a Shiner. $2 Pearl in a can. $3 Carta Blanca.

2) I've actually seen a line (OK, a four-person long line) to get in on a Saturday night, which feels totally wrong. It's a hang-out bar, not a club. But occasionally lots of folks hang out.

3) The Frito pie is not free.

Photo by Jay Janner/AA-S A former chainsaw store on West Fifth Street is a bar paying homage to the man in black. Mean-Eyed Cat. 1621 W. Fifth St., 472-6326

A big square bar occupies most of the space in the front room, and the shape allows for easy cross-bar conversation, or not. A pool table and Golden Tee are the main attractions in the side room. Outside, gravel wreaks havoc with high-heeled boots and makes a pleasant, third-grade playground crunching sound. Long picnic tables encourage sharing, while small tables promote idle eavesdropping (such a pleasant pastime). A high wall-mounted TV or two inside are usually tuned to a game, and the folks glancing up range from people in baseball caps to ones with pagers clipped to their belts on their way home from work and dudes with record-store glasses and mussy hair: regular Austin folks.

My trips into the Mean-Eyed Cat have been tinged with serendipity. For example, one Monday night, my companions and I held a long conversation about Frito pie, only to discover on our arrival that Frito pie was served. One night I thought I had lost my ring -- and a woman at the bar helped my friends and me look for it -- but later found the ring on my desk. And of course there was the most recent night, that "don't wanna go" night mentioned earlier; my friend Sarah and I ran into an old friend, who's been devising maniacal plans to off his nasty boss. While explaining his need to win the lottery so that he could build a casino with which to lure his boss to a special exploding slot machine, Sarah pointed out the flaws in the plan, which were myriad, and came up with an entire new genre of employment: the Diabolical Plan Troubleshooter, recognizable by her special glasses and business card.

Thirty minutes, people. We spent 30 minutes developing, finessing, honing the idea, discussing incorporation and corporate travel plans to evil lairs in volcanos and laughing ourselves silly. It was better even than "The West Wing."

'A Girl Walks into a Bar ...' alternates with Jonathon Goodsell's 'Night Moves.' Please visit the 'A Girl Walks into a Bar ...' archive for more reviews. Contact Moira at bargirl@covad.net.