The Pool Bar

I am, of course, always on the lookout for a good place to play pool - and I have just discovered one that has been "under my nose" - close-ish to my apartment, and right around the corner from a bunch of other bars and restaurants that I go to a lot - for a year or so.

One common problem with bars in Beijing is inconspicuousness. The door to this place is an anonymous storefront, pretty much indistinguishable from every other shop on this stretch of street. There is a sign saying 'Pool Bar', but it's not that big, quite high up, and I don't think it's illuminated. And when you peer in through the glass doors, you can't see very much. The bar area (with a big mezzanine balcony, of dubious structural integrity) has been developed behind the row of small shop units, with the street-front 'address' being nothing more than a wide access corridor (it's probably just about big enough for them to do something with it, put in some small tables or a wall-shelf and some tall stools, maybe; at the moment, they're just using it to stack cases of beer).

I think I had noticed the sign once or twice, but had not given it a second thought. Most of these small Chinese joints are dire, customerless dives. And places which advertise their pool tables.... well, usually their tables are crap, and they have hidden charges ("What? We didn't tell you you had to pay for the table? Yes, it's 30 kuai an hour. So that's 300 kuai you owe us!" [Don't get me started on 'Ballhaus' - another local bar which has made it on to my "deserves to be firebombed" list!!]). The Choirboy somehow happened upon it (well, he gets around more than me) two or three months back, and took me there the next day. It is already threatening to become a once-a-week regular haunt.

It's a pretty good table (not great, but by Chinese standards....), and has extremely unforgiving corner pockets (which plays to my penchant for drawn-out, tactical games). More importantly, there are a couple of very good cues. They even have CHALK. The balls are shite, but it seems they always are in China. Over all, this is definitely one of the best places for playing pool I've found in this city.

And the word gets around. It has built up quite a gaggle of semi-regular players, an interesting mix of Chinese and laowai (that is, foreigners). I've already taken The Chairman in there a couple of times.

And, oh dear, yes, it has already seen a few dangerous "time stands still" sessions. Last month, for example, I was in there till nearly 3am with Big Chris; he stayed on another hour or two after I'd gone, and then attempted to walk home (about 8 miles; he covered the distance, but was slightly let down by his sense of direction).

A couple of weeks ago, I went in there with The Choirboy to get over our multiple-heartbreak experience in the sea of French babes (recounted here a couple of days ago). The place was, for once, pretty empty. Empty, that is, but for Yang, one of the Chinese regulars, a very good player. On arrival around midnight, I was so drunk I couldn't focus my eyes properly. Later, though, I drank myself back sober, and enjoyed a brief spell of channelling Fast Eddie Felson, nicking a game off the flabbergasted Yang with a string of improbable pots, including a flamboyant cross-double on the black. I got home at 5am - really not sure how that happened.

Then, just last Sunday, on what was to have been a "quiet evening" (The Choirboy and all my other playmates variously indisposed, most of them nursing hangovers from a more-than-usually-excessive Saturday night), I looked in "for one quick drink" on my way back from a solitary dinner in a little Muslim restaurant nearby. It just so happened that there was an English guy I know slightly in there (hell, I sometimes think I must know half of Beijing "slightly" - I'm such a networker!), so we fell to chatting, having a game or two. It turns out he's a good player. Very good. Really quite awesomely good. Way better than me. Possibly, just possibly (dare I say it?) better than The Chairman. I think I shall refer to him as The Challenger from now on.

Anyway, I was booked for a morning recording session with my friend Dishy Debs the next day (who, it turns out, knows The Challenger much better than I do, and has indeed been partnered by him in the studio a number of times - Beijing seems like a very small world at times), so was determined on an early night, was making my excuses and getting ready to leave at around 11pm. At that exact moment (I swear, I was just starting to move towards the door), I received a text message from Debbie saying that our studio session was cancelled because delivery of the script had been delayed. A sign from above! "Thank you, God!" I turned around and ordered another beer. I probably ordered several more beers in all; I didn't leave until 3am.

Ah, this is a good place. A dangerous place, but a good place.