Cheers! By Jamie Kirkpatrick

Remember this: “Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name”?  Back in the day, Thursday night was sacred. No matter where I was, I went to Boston, to that little step-down watering hole named “Cheers” where everybody—Sam, Coach, Woody, Carla, Norm, Cliff, Frasier, Rebecca, and Diane—not only knew each other’s names, but everybody else’s, too. Alas; NBC shuttered “Cheers” on May 20, 1993; it’s probably still serving beers in reruns somewhere, but it’s just not the same…

These days, there are a lot of real and lively watering holes here in town: Zelda’s, The Retriever, Bad Alfred’s, The Blue Bird, Casa Carmen, to name just a few. But for me, my first stop on any given Thursday night is always The Kitchen at the Imperial, a bar and restaurant owned and operated by an award-winning chef and local hero—my pal, Steve Quigg. Not only does he know my name, but so do the sous-chef (Tori), the bartender (Rob), and many of the servers (Chrissy, Grace, et.al), too. Feels like home.

More than a dozen years ago, some of my local friends began a weekly tradition called Martini Night. Only a few of the original stalwarts still drink martinis these days, so now we order whatever strikes our fancy. Perhaps in honor of “Cheers,” the weekly gathering always takes place on Thursday at The Kitchen when we gossip, swap stories, laugh—all the usual Cheers-like banter. Over the years, not only has Martini Night survived a pandemic, but we’ve learned to tiptoe around most of the current political chasms. In summer, we sit gather curbside under the awnings, while in winter, we sit side-by-side along the cozy bar. Sometimes, it’s just a one-and-done drink, but Martini Night has also been known to morph into a second or third round with an appetizer of bartender trivia and dinner to follow. There are no rules; whatever you want is just right.

So, you might ask: is this going somewhere, or am I just trying to drum up some business for my friend’s bar and restaurant? Maybe it’s a little of both. With regard to the former, it’s certainly a hymn (or maybe just a little ditty) in praise of friendship and inclusivity. With regard to the latter, consider this to be an open invitation to come check us out. As the “Cheers” theme song asked, “Wouldn’t you like to get away?”

You see, towns like ours are built on relationships, on friendship. People know each other. For better or for worse, not much flies under the radar here. We may get some of the details of any given story wrong, but in the clearer light of Friday morning, the truth, or something closely resembling it, usually comes creeping in under the door. At the very least, Thursday’s gaggle is harmless socializing that keeps us out of trouble. Most of the time.

I’ll be the first to admit that there is an occasional fly in the Martini Night ointment. On a few occasions, Friday morning seems to come a little earlier than expected, but over the years, I’ve learned to avoid that particular pitfall. Most of the time.

“Making your way in the world today takes everything you’ve got. Taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot.” During these hectic and highly polarized days, we all need a safe place to go where everybody knows our name. Not one of our labels, mind you, just our names.

So see you there. You’ll be glad you came.

Cheers!

I’ll be right back.

Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer who lives in Chestertown. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy Magazine.

His new novel, “The Tales of Bismuth; Dispatches from Palestine, 1945-1948” explores the origins of the Arab-Israeli conflict. It is available on Amazon.