I don’t celebrate Christmas. It was not part of our culture and family growing up, and my exposure was really through what I learned at school. All I got out of it was that the radio started playing the same four songs over and over again, sung by different people. The “holidays” don’t really hold the same joy and meaning for me as the majority of people, especially in recent years when I worked in the service industry, when we all wish for January. Call me a Grinch all you want, but the joke’s on you, because I’ve never read or seen it!

But the promise of pretty shiny decor and booze with well thought out punny names is what landed me in line to enter Miracle on 7th Street on a cold Thursday evening. At twenty minutes to opening, the line to get it was already past the Sprint store, with my guesstimation that everyone ahead of me will find a seat at one of the four bars.

Visitors pass through a winter wonderland to a cozy gingerbread house. Turn left at the entrance and you end up in the Chanukah room, complete with Chinese takeout boxes, walls plastered with menus, and movie posters of well-known members of the Tribe.

Strings of fat multicolored lights line the blue hallways, creating the perfect selfie spot while waiting for the bathroom. At the end of the hall sits the Nutcracker-esque room, described to look like the “inside of a tree.” To the back, Santa’s sleigh sits empty, waiting for eager boys and girls to hop on for another photo op.

Solid props to the pun master who came up with the drink names. It’s true, I don’t understand most of the references (I never grew up watching these holiday movies, and as an adult, exercised my right to change the channel), but I appreciated the thought and effort. As a kitchenware enthusiast, I was also huge fan of the copper Santa/gnome drinking vessel, in all its absurdity.

If one was to learn about the holidays from this bar alone, the one takeaway would be this holiday worships sugar. Every drink description gave me a minor toothache that shot right through my skull. After much deliberation, I went with the bartender’s recommendation for the least sweet cocktail of the Red Ryder, an Old-Fashion style drink, but with a caramel popcorn twist. It was strong and boozy, just how I like my alcohol. Not as sweet as I imagined, but still sweeter than I would’ve liked.

My round two choice was a no-brainer. Beer me, barkeep!

For all my bah humbug behavior, it’s hard not to get caught up in the cheery environment as my oatmeal stout melted my frosty soul. My friends and I were endlessly entertained by the photogenic spaces and of course, our own company. I would suggest for the following year, make one of the bars a safe place for hermits, scrooges, and krampuses like myself, with a few drinks that cater to the dark and bitter souls like mine. I’d work on coming up with my own signature Bah Humbug or Grinch cocktail, but I’d much rather my whiskey on the rocks.

Photography by Cheyenne Harris.