ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
Our town’s Flight Path District has become a refuge for the town’s more alternative residents and young people trying to escape their privileged upbringings. Artists, graphic designers, and people who run community gardens but still drive newish LandCruisers. But the recent opening of a “pokie-free values-driven” venue in the area has sparked tensions.
Locals say The Sweet Wristy, a self-described “pub for people, not pokies,” has fast become the most uncomfortably welcoming place in town thanks largely to the behaviour of the man behind the bar.
The bartender, a blow-in from the French Quarter or possibly Betoota Grove, has quickly gained notoriety for treating everyone that walks in the door to a big smile and a wave. Ordering a schooner of XXXX is said to trigger an annoying wink and even a playful flex of an arm.
As one long-suffering patron put it, “his friendliness to strangers is unAustralian.”
Locals say the service at The Sweet Wristy is painfully slow, not due to crowds, but because the bartender insists on “conversational pacing”. Checking in with each customer about their week, their relationship with their father and their current reading list before pouring anything.
Cash is technically accepted, but discouraged. Either way, all cash income is reported to the ATO, which is, again, unAustralian. The menu is handwritten by someone with 1 point left on their pen licence. They have an APRA subscription so artists are fairly compensated. All meals are vegan by default, unless you specifically request conflict-free protein.
While the pub has positioned itself as a progressive alternative to Betoota’s many RSLs, sports bars, and worker’s clubs, golf clubs, illegal gambling dens and massage parlours locals say the atmosphere is far more hostile than anywhere with a TAB.
“He is untrustworthy because he smiles too much, he has kid-friendly banter and he once asked me to reframe my tone before ordering a rum and coke,” said one FIFO worker.
“At least at the Lord Kidman you get told to fuck off politely. The bouncers are so old-fashioned, too. I got pushed down the stairs and booted in the head last time I was there. And I deserved it. Big Red took my last $20, so I smooshed my meat pie up the cash hole and kicked it off its perch.”
Despite sluggish foot traffic and poor reviews, The Sweety Wristy continues to survive thanks to quarterly arts grants, a rotating schedule of spoken word nights and the fact that it’s part owned by someone who grows copious amounts of cannabis in the Remienko State Forrest and needs somewhere to wash the cash.
More to come.
