Inside Etta's.: Daniel Carlson

I’m new to town, and I like to drink. For reasons I’m not stupid enough to question, 29-95 has decided to pay me (I know!) to bring both of those considerable traits to bear as I explore the city I now call home.
• Read about my past bar trips.

I’d been told the name of the place was “Etta’s Lounge.” That was confirmed when I Googled to get directions, so I figured it was right, because it was on the Internet and the Internet never lies. When I pulled up in front of the low, decaying building, though, the hand-painted name said “Etta’s Restaurant.” The best way to describe the joint is to say it’s somewhere between those two points on the spectrum: not quite a bar, not quite an actual eatery, it instead derives its personality from the easy atmosphere and utter lack of pretension inside.

As has happened before, I arrived only to find out that Etta’s doesn’t take plastic. So I drove down Scott Street to a liquor store next to a braid shop, the kind of place where the door opens into a cage that has to be electronically opened by the quiet, bitter woman working behind the cash register. I needed the liquor store for the ATM, after which I hustled back up the road to Etta’s. It’s in an older part of town that doesn’t look quite as maintained as others. I’m still sketchy on geography, but it’s either a little south of the Third Ward or actually part of it. Photo credit: Daniel Carlson

“You made it back, brother,” the older black woman said as I returned. I smiled a bit at being called “brother” — I’m not just white, I’m translucent, and I could not look more bookish or Semitic — and told her that yes, I’d made it back with cash in hand. She’d been sorting through what looked like a pile of receipts when I got there, but she shuffled behind the bar to take my order.

I should probably try my best to describe the bar area. It’s covered with papers and knick-knacks, and is randomly lit by bright, bare bulbs hanging in front of large metal discs meant I think to be reflective. (They are.) There’s a stovetop with two dangerously large flames going, and a selection of random condiments next to it. The décor is tied together by the sense that this is a place where long-time members of the neighborhood hang out. Propped against the cash register was a program from a funeral (dubbed a “homegoing celebration”) for a local minister, and a program from the same man’s 60th birthday party from a couple years earlier was nearby. One of the reasons I took fewer pictures than I usually do was that doing so felt weirdly invasive, as if I was photographing something that didn’t really plan on being seen so critically. Put it this way: another bar that looked like this might be called dirty, but Etta’s seems thrown together honestly, with no thought in mind except to keep the walls standing and the customers fed.
Photo credit: Daniel Carlson
The old woman slid me a battered menu encased in plastic sheeting and held in one of those little plastic stands used to advertise drink specials, and I selected the chopped beef sandwich. While she disappeared into the back to get it, a guy in his early 40s came in, as did a pair of women with a young boy. An older man sat a few seats down from me at the rickety bar and barely moved and never spoke. Even when the middle-aged guy engaged me and him in light stranger banter about the weather and the news, the old guy just nodded. I want to grow up to be him.

The beer selection isn’t much, but then again, this isn’t exactly that kind of place. The old woman was confident she had Buds and Millers, and was oddly emphatic about having High Life, though I had her scrounge me up a Heineken. The barbecue sandwich was good, too, served piping hot on simple white bread on a Styrofoam plate. I briefly considered shooting a game of pool at the lonely table at the other end of the room, but passed on the idea. There are probably times when the joint hops a little, but this wasn’t one of them, and I didn’t want to wreck the vibe.

Etta’s was a warm and welcoming place, and seems like an ideal spot to stop by and grab a drink and some food and probably see people you know. It’s different from every other bar I’ve been to for this series in that it doesn’t seem to have the same atmosphere and purpose of most bars, but that can often be a good thing. It’s just a joint, plain and simple, and well worth seeking out. Just bring cash.