Oregon Tavern Age: Jello Shots

The bartender poured his jello shot concoction into tiny paper cups on a silver tray. They looked like a kind of communion, for a kind of church, an OTA church, where the bar is the pulpit. It’s the only church in the world where parishioners get multiple shots of the sacrament.

I sat near the window writing a post card as post cards go extinct. They are almost impossible to find in traditional retail outlets.

This OTA joint was all Halloweened-up. They were laying in the chilled stores of jello-shots for the big party.

Near me, an OTA woman sipped a colossal glass of wine. I heard her tell the bartender she was playing hooky from teaching middle school. I was a teacher once, I get it.

The female OTA cook emerged from the kitchen. She told the bartender her memories of a concert at the Fillmore that changed her life back in the day: Quicksilver Messenger Service. I felt the same way about seeing the Bus Boys at Starry Night. I’ll never forget their cover of “Brown Sugar.”

An OTA woman walked in the joint with a hamburger basket. She set it down on the bar and ordered a double rum and coke.

The bartender came up to the hamburger eater and offered a free jello shot as a kind of taste test. She didn’t hesitate and gulped it down.

Another one? Sure, why not.

The bartender proclaimed he was a jello shot “master” and this serving was his original Cherry Cheesecake recipe. His other concoctions included Fudgesicle, Banana Cream and Pumpkin Pie.

I winced hearing that.

The bartender said he’d made 96 shots so far that morning and had to make a couple hundred more.

I winced at that, too. But I also smiled because it was so utterly preposterous, harmless and depraved and the essence of Oregon Tavern Age life, a life that is increasingly endangered. I will document it to the very end.