The Brick

Clichés are at times a very good thing. Take for instance the bar. More specifically, The Brick, in the small town of Cicely, Alaska. This isn’t your craft cocktail mixology bar with drinks starting at 20 dollars. This bar is the watering hole that you can go on a special occasion, or nightly, whatever your preference. 

And it’s not about the drinks at the bar. Though it has a couple of beers on tap, can make pretty much make any drink in a bartender’s drink manual, and serves a mean ICEE, there’s a pool table, darts, a pinball machine, and even one of those payphones in the back. These are old standby’s that only enhance the bar experience. And of course, the jukebox. It overlays the slice-of-life the chit chat with Charlie Pride tunes, and at night, uses its power to get everyone off their asses and do a mean two-step to classic rock tunes.

These clichés are important. They’re there to stand the test of time. Plus, they give country music artists some material to write about.

And when you feel like a fish-out-of-water and you’re searching for answers as to what the people of your newfound environment are like, the bar will tell you that. It’ll tell you, you're not in New York anymore. There’s no bagels, clean-shaven chins, or haute couture. 

It’ll tell you who has the power in the town, what the breaking local news is, and who’s dating who. It’ll give a nice sample space of the demographics. Like in The Brick’s case, Native American and Caucasian. 

Holding true to these clichés, bars like The Brick, give people the ability to put their shoulders down. They offer a safe haven and act as a right of passage to enter and assimilate into the community the bar serves proudly.