Last time Lisa and I were in Salt Lake City, we had trouble finding a local watering hole. We ended up at Uinta Brewery in basically an industrial park. The beer was good, but the vibe of the city rubbed us wrong. Too bad, too, because there are a lot of reasons to love this town.
Anyway, I found myself serendipitously back in Salt Lake City. Well, more accurately, I was flying through Salt Lake City en route elsewhere with a layover long enough for a drink. I steeled my will as my plane touched down. This wasn’t going to be easy, I told myself. Then I got off the plane and found myself staring directly at Squatters Pub.
Times seem to have changed.
Provo Girl Pilsner certainly sounded tempting, but I opted for the Amber. The beer was great, but the view was better. It’s a wonderful thing to be drinking a delicious beer and staring out over the Wasatch Range with a layer of protective glass separating you from the reality outside. I should insert some wisecrack about the 4% alcohol limit on craft beer, but, honestly, I’m not always a fan of overly-boozy beers. The Amber hit the spot.
But here’s the kicker. In every airport bar ever, I’ve always been ID’d. I’ve seen an 80-year-old, nearly-dead man wearing a WWII veterans hat get ID’d at an O’Hare airport bar. Airports are strict! But in the little slice of SLC perfection that is Squatters Pub, I didn’t have to prove my age. I was treated like a grown-ass, 32-year-old man. What a nice surprise.
Reroute your flights to stop here. The best seats are along the back wall — where floor-to-ceiling windows give great views of outside.