Don’t judge a bar by its exterior

Surely this couldn’t be the place. To say it was off the beaten path implies that there was a path somewhere nearby. And once we crossed over the railroad tracks any path seemed arbitrary at best.

I pulled up and parked along what passed for a curb. Really, it was just a pile of asphalt, which certainly didn’t give it any air of edging permanence at all.

My friend pulled up behind me.

“Is this the place?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he said. “I’ve been here before.”

The mostly plywood front door opened outward, and the faded live band flyers stapled to it flapped in the breeze created exclusively by its movement.

There were no lights out front. None. And even the neon “open” sign wasn’t illuminated. Light had leaked out around the edges of the door before it had opened, and now its pale luminance spilled out onto what passed for a sidewalk.

I instinctively double-checked that my car doors were locked, not so much to make sure that they were, but rather to make sure the alarm was activated.

They say to never judge a book by its cover, and the same could be said of bars, or more correctly, not their covers, but rather by their front doors. I know of at least two bar/restaurants that have amazing newly remodeled facades. Unfortunately, the interiors are still the same tired old ones.

But once inside this out-of-the-way spot, those bright lights lit up pool tables, video games and the bar — much brighter than one would have expected from the other side of that plywood.

“Hello, fellas!” said the bartender, who could have been straight out of mixology central casting. Suspenders, a scruffy beard, craft beer T-shirt and a black baseball cap. It’s not really a uniform, but it sure could be.

And he also seemed genuinely glad to see us.

“Table or bar?” he asked.

“Table,” we answered.

“Here are some menus,” he said, handing them to us. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

He bopped in and out from behind the bar, making drinks for the people scattered about the room and then delivering them.

He was a picture of efficiency. His hands were never empty. Dirty plates gave way to full drinks, which gave way to plates of food. In between there was plenty of hand washing, hands that he dutifully dried on the white towel slung over his shoulder.

One can get an immediate sense of a bar within the first 30 seconds of meeting the bartender. Who hasn’t been a customer where it feels like you are inconveniencing the bartender simply by being there? And that’s not a recipe for success.

This bartender and his server sidekick worked like a well-oiled machine. It didn’t matter if the customers were at the bar or at a table. Everyone was attended to.

The food wasn’t exactly original, but it was fresh and hot and ample. And it was delivered in a timely and efficient fashion. There are some bartenders who won’t ever wait on tables, and there are some bartenders who get miffy about what cocktails are ordered. Mr. Central Casting was neither of them.

He seemed to view every interaction as an opportunity, and an opportunity it was, because hospitality always begins with being hospitable, and that includes being welcoming and genuinely gracious.

I’ve worked with many bartenders in many different establishments all up and down the coast of California, and this young man, in the most out-of-the-way place imaginable, might have been one of the best that I have ever seen. He certainly understood the job, and he understood his role, and he intertwined both in the most fluid way. There weren’t going to be any lectures on whiskey or eye rolls about your choice of beer. I suspect he was just as comfortable making a cosmo as he was an espresso martini, because I watched him make both in between serving pitchers of beer and plates of chicken wings and everybody seemed happier for it, including both me and my friend.

“See you next time!” he said, waving to us on our way out the door.

“Absolutely,” I said.

I believed he meant what he said. And surprisingly, so did I.

Leaving me with these thoughts:

• “No matter where you go, there you are,” said actor Peter Weller as the lead character in the 1984 film “The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension.”

• Just because your Manhattan costs $20 doesn’t mean that it’s worth $20.

• If you only treat your customers like customers, then they can never be your friends.

• Sometimes the worst bar is situated in the best part of town, and ironically, sometimes it’s exactly the other way around.