Well, maybe one more.
I am sorry that your pool hall experience was different. Mine was idyllic. I threw newspapers six days a week on my bicycle. I kept "sneaking" into the pool hall on my paper route until they tired of throwing me out -- I earned entrance through sheer perserverance. After pedaling and throwing for five miles, I could always find an ice-cold Barq's Root Beer,* in the bottle, and delicious a roast beef po-boy, cheeseburger, or . . . From a tall stool, I could relax in cool dimness to the click and clack from a dozen tables and a tv ball game turned low and survey a world of pure magic and intrigue.
I cleared almost $15.00 a week from my paper route, which was not much, but it went far enough in the pool hall (a root beer was $.10) and at some point, I was even given an account and allowed to charge. This place was my sanctuary from all of the trials and tribulations of my small universe, and I truly believe it provided the same type of refuge to the many other players. Yes, it was a male world, but not dirty and dingy. Throughout my life, I have always sought such places out -- they, and the people in them, repair my soul.
Some of the better players even took time and extreme patience to instruct me, not just about pool but about life (an appropriate counterbalance to my Catholic School elementary education which took place down the road). I cannot imagine this type of interaction occurring in a bar. Tell me this, are young kids allowed to hang out in today's bars in order to further their pool education?
* Born in Biloxi, too.
