Watering Hole

T. Hogan's

5109 Rochelle Ave., Manayunk, 215-482-8583

In Lenape Indian, Manayunk translates to "our place for drinking." Accordingly, the area has a crap ton of drinking places. Most of the bar stools are occupied by college kids these days, but the implied spirit for spirits persists. I witnessed this firsthand at T. Hogan's, a friendly neighborhood saloon just off Ridge Street.

A round three-sided bar greets you as you enter, and a narrow walkway dotted with booths and arcade games leads to the pool table in the back. Billiards are free, but only because the table's broken and won't accept money. It's also on a slight slant, which helps horrible players like me make Black Widow-esque shots now and again.

As I walked in, I had to navigate a turbulent sea of completely wasted girls dancing to an unidentifiable pop hit. Later, I saw a dude in straight-legged jeans and a tucked-in Henley shirt grind to "Hey Ya." Of course, the only thing more awkward than white people dancing to OutKast is white people rapping to OutKast. (He did that, too.) Every time I ordered a drink, I found myself mumbling something about how I would never, ever lend dude any sugar.

The tipsier I got, the weirder the dancing became. At one point, a couple jitterbugged to a song that definitely didn't merit jitterbugging. A friend of a friend informed me that the musical selections that night were atypical—Metallica usually monopolizes. The jukebox returned to form later in the evening, as I downed pints to the sweet sounds of James Hetfield going "yeeuhh."

Monday is wing night at the bar: Beforehand, I was told that pitchers were $5, and wings were 20 cents. Prior to ordering, my buddy John lamented that they'd raised it to $6 and 25 cents due to "increasing gas prices."

If the Lenape still occupied the area today, I'm sure they'd heart Hogan's—drunk guy jivin' and all.