Halifax Nightlife

Another entry originally drafted during my trip to the Fax.

I managed on the Friday before Christmas to get out and soak in the nightlife of Halifax. Now Haligonians are not a cosmopolitan lot. In fact, most would tell you Cosmopolitan is an ice cream flavour.



Halifax is there because that's where the harbour is. See, where there's a harbour there is always a navy and a good deal of shipping. So a bunch of people got together, called themselves Haligonians (because the were go'n to Halifax) and off they went. These Haligonians of course were Brewers, Bartenders and Hookers. This means the joint generally booms when there's war, and is pretty sucky in peace time. Its bars have historically held sailors still on their sea legs, clutching a shore pass - hoping to get a couple shots, a pint of Keith's, find a fight, and pick up some tail before their ship's horn blows.

Most holds true today.

For instance: I've been in town when some Marines hit shore on Tuesday night. The bars were hopping with handsome young men enjoying a few of something they weren't old enough to have back in South Carolina. Intermingled in the crowd of course were the girls that just happened to show up, as if it were a Saturday.

And then there are Halifags. They, as with the rest of the town have a rich Military Tradition.


I went through the Halifax Drinking Checklist while crossing the Harbour in the Ferry:

• Know the bar before you start staring at people.
• Halifax is on a hill. Choose a venue keeping this in mind. There's nothing worse than trying to crawl up a hill drunk.
• Donairs are a seemingly good idea at 3 in the morning. Remember you will smell like a donair and stale beer in the morning.
• The only place to get a cab after midnight is at the Casino. You'll save more time staggering there than trying to flag one down on the street.

I started my evening at Cheers in the Liquor Dome. Cheers is a place quite different than one on the show, just so you know. The crowd gets younger as the day progresses. She opens her doors for the day to the walker crowd, and is kicking the university crowd out at last call.

I arrived at nine. That's how old I am.

I had a grand time listening to conversation at the bar. One very nice and equally drunk regular bought me a pint of Keith's. What made it special for the holiday season was his friends convinced him it was time to go home immediately after, so I got to enjoy it in Peace.

The band finally started up. I love Halifax bands! I have no clue however what the name of this particular band is. They were all over the map in their set, from U2 to NS. And the lead singer was a hottie. Overall, an awesome set. As they took a break, I knew it was time for me to bounce, as it were.

For Cheers hit that time bubble where the generational shift begins in the crowd. As the younger patrons begin to stream in, the older crowd is getting to look like a bunch of freaks. It is their last call. The guys realise they only have one more chance to drop their date rape drug in some one's drink. The ladies order one more drink then go to the washroom.

Trying to shake the bone-chilling breeder display I just endured, off I went to the Cabaret.

Rejections is still the spot. It's been 10 years since I first set foot in there, and have probably been there less than 5 times before. The look never changes, and neither does the crowd. It still considers itself to have a mixed crowd, which it does. The straight component however is generally there to pick up drugs.

I was there early. The place doesn't gain momentum until Happy Hour, which runs 11-1. It's a frugal crowd, to be sure. I enjoy being there early so I can people-watch. Now, if you've ever seen Trailer Park Boys, you may be of the opinion that the crowd scenes are poorly acted.


As I scanned the few people there, a startling feeling came over me that I was dropped into the middle of a TPB episode. I began to realise - this could be the Toronto influence in me - that indeed, Halifax is poorly acted.

All I could do was get myself some $2.50 Keith's and enjoy the music. And then Paul cheers' me. I ask where he's from.
"Don't laugh," he pleads.
"I won't"
"Canning. The Valley."

I laugh, then quickly tell him I used to live in the Valley. Through the night, he will never ask and I will never reveal that I am from Toronto. I'm smitten with Valley guys. And I find myself with something to do while I'm enjoying my Keith's. I spend the rest of the evening enjoying brief encounters with Paul.

At some point well after Happy Hour, I asked Paul where he was staying.
"Across the street"
"At the hotel?"
"No in the parking lot, in my car. I'm going to nap before I drive back tomorrow."

It became obvious it was time to leave. And off I went into the night.

Well, I necked with Paul for a while and copped a couple really decent feels. Then I left after telling him I was going to the bar.

Halifax is like that. She will show you a good time, but will usually pull back at the last minute. Like many of her hookers.

Categories: Breeders, Clubs, Gay, People, Travel