PlanJam!From your screen to the scene

A lot of the cooler bars in Park Slope are clustered in the North end, but with Commonwealth on their side, South Slopers can proudly lay claim to one of the best. Even Manhattanites, with all the options available to them on that most accommodating of isles, will cross the bridge for a night of debauchery, Commonwealth-style.

Why, you may ask, does Commonwealth continue to draw in tipplers from around the five boroughs? For one thing, the patio is awesome, with its giant umbrella which has to be seen to be believed. Smokers congregate out there and engage in intense conversations that often end up sucking in nearby tables, and a unique community atmosphere is born. Or perhaps it’s the unusually excellent jukebox, or the endlessly entertaining “Brutally Honest Personal Ads,” which allow angry young hipsters to vent their frustrations in clever satires on the standard personal ad, all under the watchful eye of a weirdly appropriate mugshot of a disheveled Nick Nolte. Some of the constantly changing ads are real calls for guff-free romance, and some are just for entertainment and/or enlightenment, but all are good for a laugh.

Another thing that keeps people coming back is the interesting selection of specialty mixed drinks (all worth a taste), though I am more of a beer person, and I have no complaints as far as the draft selection goes. I dropped in with my boyfriend the other night, as we often do on date nights, due to both the closeness of the bar and the comfortable atmosphere. Unlike many Park Slope bars, it doesn’t get so loud you resort to screaming your voice away just to order a drink, and you can usually snag a table if you are willing to hover over a departing party for ten minutes or so. We managed to pounce on a tiny table in the back of the bar, and while we tipped back a few rounds of Sierra Nevadas (our mutual favorite), we were again reminded of all the reasons we like this bar.

You can order a drink without getting attitude back from the bartender or the clientele (sadly, rare in a lot of hipper Brooklyn bars), take your time drinking it without being hassled, you won’t be hit on by skeezy greasy guys or drunken club girls, and most importantly, when you overhear the conversations of the tables next to you, they’re often interesting and intelligent. Part of this is due to the fact that Commonwealth attracts a fairly diverse crowd: old and young, rich and poor, professors and busboys all share tables and cigarettes here. It’s not unusual to come in on a weekday afternoon and find the bartender deeply in conversation with middle-aged, well-off regulars and authors scribbling away at their poems and manuscripts. It’s this old world, university bar sort of feeling that I feel when I’m on my third drink, feeling half-cheesed, and delighting in a snippet of overheard debate on the merits of Proust or Ionesco. Call it pretension if you must, but sometimes you need a little PBS in your diet.