Slowdown Showdown

One thing I love about dive bars is their apparent immunity to the caprices of time. So often they’re locked in whatever decade they opened in, staffed by barkeeps who have poured drinks through multiple presidential administrations and for whom new music is often the last record Garth Brooks released before the Chris Gaines fiasco. The promo beer/liquor-company crap might look current, and maybe the TVs are new, but in most cases, dives are fun because drinking in one of them is like getting drunk inside a museum. It’s almost as if repainting walls or refinishing bar tops does these places a disservice, tarnishing the memories of their longtime regulars with new coats of varnish.

I thought about this the other night at Showdown Saloon, primarily because the place has an internet jukebox and a Golden Tee — I wondered if these relatively contemporary additions have bummed anyone out. I hope not, because that’s sort of nitpicky. As far as I can tell, not much has changed since that bar opened in — what? –– the ’70s? ’80s? If I had to guess, the Showdown is at least as old as I am, considering all the scuffs in its counter, the faded handwritten signs behind the bar, and its trademark rack of plastic mugs (You get discount drafts if you buy one for regular visits.) I wondered if the Showdown has ever looked new.

This was my first trip to the Showdown in Arlington, having been to its younger sister bar on Camp Bowie Boulevard many times, and its slight dilapidation carried the bulk of the charm. I don’t mean that it’s ramshackle or anything, and it’s neither messy nor dirty. It’s just … I dunno. The back bar is cluttered with the kind of stuff you acquire after being in business through multiple fads, fashions, and eras in décor (think: old, dusty deer trophies), and the general vibe reminded me of my late grandfather’s study.

Grabbing a beer at a place like the Showdown is enjoyable in the way that an old holey t-shirt is comforting. I imagined a scenario in which a person returns to the Showdown after a long stretch in prison and breathes in the same smells he remembered from before he did his 10 years or whatever. When a person proudly tells someone about his or her “home bar,” I hope they mean a place like this, because even though I’d never been there before, I felt like I had been welcomed into someone’s living room.

In the case of the Showdown, it’s a living room that also has a pool table and a couple of dartboards. I might have been a new face, but the crowd of regulars was friendly enough to engage me when I found myself laughing at a dirty joke that had boisterously escaped the group’s orbit of familiars. It’s a place where the beers are cheap and making new buddies is easy.

Better still, Showdown opens at 11 a.m. on weekdays and Saturday and noon on Sundays. Too many times, when I’ve wanted a liquid lunch, I’ve resigned myself to a trip to a chain restaurant, to be hounded by overly enthusiastic servers. That the Showdown offers a quiet place to get a late-morning/early-afternoon buzz endears it to me even more.

On my visit, however, I was out only for a nightcap –– for me, the last drink on a solo night out provides a moment to make sense of my day, for slowing my brain down so that the week doesn’t seem like such a blur. I think that’s one of the main reasons I go out by myself — those 45 minutes or so of reflection are becoming more crucial the older I get. The Showdown is perfect for this, because it’s a place where time appears to stand still. At least until 2 a.m., anyway. –– Steve Steward

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Showdown Saloon

2019 S Cooper St, Arlington.

817-460-4893.

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