Last night while I was noding I started to think about how much I missed watching Cheers. I wanted to node about it but I couldn't decide what I would write if I did. Then as luck would have it one of my favorite episodes was on Fox last night. My favorite episodes are the ones with Gary, from the Gary's Old Time Tavern.

The episode that was on last night was the Halloween one where they decide to get Gary by putting a floating hologram of Carla's dismembered head over Gary's bar. When they come in to check out the hologram Gary is laying dead on the floor. Sam won't believe that he's really dead until he goes to his funeral and even then he still doesn't believe it. He hung out at the grave waiting for him to pop up out of the ground but he never did.

So Sam, Carla, Norm, Cliff and everyone else goes back to Cheers and Woody starts crying because he is upset that Gary died and Sam follows him to the backroom and when Wooody comes out he is crying and he has his face all covered. Then as Sam is comforting him he takes his hands from his face and it's Gary! And everyone in the whole bar knew about it except for Sam! And that was the best thing about Cheers- you never knew what was going to happen, but something really wacky always ended up happening.

And that is what I miss about Cheers, it was funny because it was unpredictable. Television shows today are completely predictable and every time something happens that could have been a surprise, they leak it out to the media and everyone knows about it before the show airs and it's just not any fun. I want Cheers back!!
There is no actual bar called Cheers in the city of Boston, unless you count the cheesy tourist-trap watering hole just outside the metal detectors at Gate B of Logan Airport.

The real Cheers is the Bull & Finch Pub, located at 84 Beacon Street. The food is traditional Americana - burgers, buffalo wings, stuff like that. Naturally, baked beans and clam chowder are available. Bonus points if you pronounce it "chowda".

The pub is Boston's most visited tourist spot. The inside, of course, looks NOTHING like the bar in the television show (much like the inside of the Bow & Arrow looks nothing like it does in Good Will Hunting).

As for the TV show, I can't say I really miss Cheers, what with reruns of Hogan's Heroes and All In The Family still playing. But I wouldn't complain if someone bought it back into syndication...

My favorite scenes from Cheers:


Frasier parks his car outside the pub, then blips on the alarm. He goes down the steps. The alarm goes off. He rushes back up, looks around, then blips it off and back on again. He goes down the steps. The alarm goes off. Again, he rushes back up, looks around, then blips it off and back on again. He takes a few steps down... then rushes quickly back up. Nothing. So he walks back down the steps. Pan down. Norm and Cliff are sitting on the opposite side of the car, drinking beer and pulling the door handle up randomly. They both laugh hysterically as Norm pulls the handle again. We hear Frasier yelling "Arrrrrrgh!" as they cut to the theme song.


Nickel Beer Night at Cheers. Norm sits down at the bar, plops down a five, and proudly announces he's buying 100 beers for himself. Fast forward to the end of the episode... Norm is sitting on the same stool, drinking beer. Someone praises his brilliant idea. He says that maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all. "Why, Norm," the guy asks, "How many have you had?"


Also what one says when toasting.
Cheers! clink drink
(In japanese it's Kanpai! (toast))

"Cheers", in the UK, means "thanks". It's usually, almost automatically, followed by the word "mate". Phrases like "cheers" and "cheers mate" are incredibly catchy when hearing them hundreds of times a day (especially when said in an English accent), so if you are from the UK or just visiting you won't be able to stop upon arriving elsewhere. Beware! People who aren't used to these phrases will think you are very strange unless you are holding a drink.

An asthmatic faucet spits gouts of water
into a rusted sink, below a cracked mirror.
When I exit the bathroom,
the line of blank stares,
inches closer.

Beneath the lights of the bar,
we toast our shots of Southern Comfort
under the auspices of Jimi Hendrix.
We shout to each other because we want to laugh,
because whispers are for churches and classrooms.
We paid two dollars to rent this hour,
and fill this vacant lot of memory.

We exit our local bars at last call and walk home,
screaming nicknames down the dark alleys,
through tin cans attached by the strings
that wound around our friendship.
We drink shots at our children’s weddings,
and the open bars of our high school reunions
leaving pools of urine in the white porcelain
of funeral homes.

What is an American life, if not a collection?
An album of revelry, of drinks and conversations
whose exact words float in cigarette smoke
around the warped lips of aging loves.

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