The Honest Pint, as seen by my admittedly poor cellphone camera.
As I sat Wednesday at a small corner table at The Honest Pint, listening to an Irish band while sipping on a concoction of whiskey and Coca-Cola, I leaned back and enjoyed the happy twittering of students, dreamers and young professionals around me.
The glittering chandeliers above me cast off yellow light that lent the generous wood paneling an orange glow.
And everybody looks and feels better with an orange glow.
A wooden staircase leads to a balcony that wraps around the entire room upstairs. Dart boards are available for those who like to throw elongated thumb tacks at a piece of endangered cork.
If I weren’t surrounded by obvious American stereotypes, I’d swear I was in one of Ireland’s best bars, minus the stink, the fights, the low ceilings and the ever-present dinginess prevalent in the Isle.
The drinks here are moderately priced but not overstrong. It’s the cost that sends me home instead of the drunkenness, but I don’t mind much.
You’re not just paying for the booze, after all. The pub is well-staffed by cheerful youngsters, and has a full kitchen and clean bathrooms. In fact, the whole place is clean enough to bring my mother along.
The food is hearty and fun, and the menu takes a moment to gently poke fun at the American disdain for haggis.
A few flat screens hand from the walls, but this isn’t a sports bar. There isn’t a jukebox packed with Journey, Bon Jovi and Lady Gaga.
The emphasis here is clearly and firmly on the fun and fellowship of sharing a pint with your mates, not on sitting sullenly with an eye on the TV, complaining about the terrible New Orleans Saints.
Chuganooga 