Ear Inn: “Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?” Even Pink Floyd would have to ask twice about where everyone was when visiting Ear Inn, an ancient neighborhood bar that basically forgot to situate itself in a neighborhood. Located out in the boondocks at the tail end of Spring Street, Ear Inn resembles a shipwreck. Captain’s wheels on the walls and seafood on the menu bolster this theme, with land-locked customers settling at the somewhat-cramped bar with a beer, reading Jonathan Lethem or watching the big game. If sports and books aren’t your bag, have a few Boddingtons and stare at the walls—the eerily life-like oil portraits start moving after enough alcohol. And as a reminder that you’re completely cut off from humanity, signs which read “The Ear is a cell-free zone” are posted around the joint. Good luck calling for help if a man goes overboard. |
