Blue Moon Tavern — Restaurant in Seattle

Intergalactic Guide to Earth's Hidden Gems: The Night My Soul Was Saved by Preachers Flask

Ladies, gentlemen, and weary travelers of America in 2025, please direct your attention to what can only be described as THE LAST BASTION OF AUTHENTIC HUMAN INTERACTION in our increasingly digital dystopia.

After a week that can only be compared to being slowly digested in the stomach acid of the state while simultaneously juggling flaming chainsaws at home (thanks to the looming DOGE threat to my partner's federal employment and our basic ability to maintain electrical illumination), I found myself in bumper-to-bumper traffic contemplating the existential futility of modern existence.

Upon arrival at this establishment—THE PROMISED LAND—I made the catastrophic discovery that my government-issued identity card was languishing on my kitchen counter approximately 1.25 hours away. Cue interaction with the Guardian of the Gate (bouncer), to whom I responded with the emotional maturity of a toddler denied a second juice box. "DO YOU KNOW HOW OLD I AM?" I silently screamed with my eyes while externally manifesting as a middle-aged man having a minor meltdown.

PLOT TWIST: This magnificent specimen of humanity—this SAINT IN BOUNCER'S CLOTHING—demonstrated unparalleled mercy by accepting my digital identification, despite my earlier transformation into Entitlement Man™.

Even after penetrating the hallowed interior, my nervous system remained in DEFCON 1, fight-or-flight chemicals coursing through my veins like a pharmaceutical cocktail at a Vegas pool party.

BUT THEN.

The clouds parted. Angels sang. The universe aligned.

PREACHERS FLASK took the stage.

For those uninitiated into this religious experience masquerading as an "American Rock band," imagine growing up in a household where religious pamphlets outnumbered breakfast cereals 10:1, subsequently rebelling against EVERYTHING IMAGINABLE, yet somehow allowing Jesus to infiltrate your guitar licks. THAT'S THESE GUYS.

As they performed their sonic sorcery, I witnessed the medical miracle of anxiety physically exiting my body like demons in a biblical exorcism. I found myself seated next to the substitute bass player's ACTUAL MATERNAL UNIT, who was both radiating joy AND sharing her popcorn with perfect strangers (including yours truly).

In that transcendent moment, I realized: we're all just cosmic dust pretending to be people, trying to have a good time before returning to the void.

I contemplated hunting down the bouncer for a therapeutic embrace but instead opted for Indian cuisine. THE FOOD WAS GOOD, BUT THE HUG WOULD HAVE BEEN TRANSFORMATIVE. Poor life choice #783 of the week.

In conclusion: This establishment offers a perfect cocktail of reasonable crowd density, authentically non-pretentious humans, auditory perfection (not the sound system but the band), and saint-like tolerance for individuals (me) experiencing temporary emotional instability following prolonged workplace/household trauma.

Will return. Will bring ID next time. May still hug bouncer.

P.S. If the lead singer of Preachers Flask is reading this—your musical wizardry literally saved me from becoming a cautionary tale on the evening news. Tell your therapist you made a...

This place is beyond racist. Went to support a friend performing and I brought my own beer ( I didn't know this was illegal. I don't frequent bars and the security guard said nothing). Rather than tell me that and ask me to leave, the man snatched the beer out of my hand, yelled at me in front of everyone there and ushered me out with his body. I stopped for a second to let my friends know I had to leave and he yelled at me and said "you can't speak to them you need to leave". I was not resisting, I wasn't being rude, and I was leaving like he rudely yelled at me to do. He was overly aggressive and putting his hands on my person. They also refused to give me the information of the owner so I could talk to her about her overly aggressive staff who tried to force me out without letting me inform my friends. Security guard said she would have been just as mean. Good to know. Thank God my friends stood up for me. They told them how racist they were for treating a young black woman like this yet being nice to them when they were standing up for me and were more irate than I was. I work for a well known establishment where I have a rapport with the hundreds of customers I work with a day as well as tourists asking for suggestions. I will tell them my experience and to avoid this place...

A solid bar I'm sure with good seating and a stage for band. Unfortunately I walked in with a fishing ball cap on and my buddy had a camo patch on his jacket, and we both were wearing boots. Despite being 4 hours until they closed the bartender told us they were closing and wouldn't serve us drinks right after she served two others. That took 5 to ten minutes of waiting while she clearly was trying to ignore us. We were polite the whole time, even after being told no drinks. They couldn't make change for a few ones to play at the pool table either. No matter how nice this bar might be if you aren't dressed right, ie nothing that looks country, the service is not just terrible but downnoright discriminating. This was my second time trying it out and the first was not much different. I don't mind maintaining a theme at a bar but lying to people and turning them away based on clothing is...