Creepy Crawlers: Downtown Sarasota

"When you're alone and life is making you lonely, you can always go," sang Petula Clark in 1964 of her mythical "Downtown."

Not to go all '60s Gold Collection infomercial on you, but it is kind of amazing how relevant Clark's sentiment still feels today. Like many a red-blooded American, I've long cherished the chipper song, and while I'm not sure this was Clark's intention, I think "Downtown" stands as one of the finest drinking anthems ever written.

We put my theory to the test on a recent Friday evening. Just past suppertime, my cohorts and I started on the west end of Main Street, working our way east through a slew of watering holes, each one catering to a different clientele. We set out together, firm in the belief that you can, in fact, always go Downtown.

At the Sports Page Bar & Grille (1319 Main St., 365-0469), entire families dine and drink together under the democratizing presence of pool and numerous TV screens (a different sporting event broadcast on each). Both the diner-style menu -- burgers, chili con carne and grouper sandwiches -- and the classic rock soundtrack (courtesy of an Internet jukebox) complete the Sports Page experience. But then, one colleague noted, so does the breadth of its drink list: If the on-tap selections of Yuengling and Stella Artois aren't enough to satisfy your exotic tastes, there's always the liquor store conveniently located next door. If this place proves anything, it's that beer guzzling can be a family affair.

Head up the block, and you'll reach a new addition to the Downtown landscape, one already fast on its way to becoming a staple.

You have to ascend a narrow flight of stairs to reach Grace O'Malley's Irish Pub (1359 Main St., 365-4580), a pirate-themed dancehall/bar established earlier this year. While we felt a bit shortchanged by the place's Irish pretenses (ay, there was nary a brogue to be heard, mateys), at least O'Malley's food is authentic. Its menu is a culinary tribute to the pub's Irish namesake (Grace might be history's most famous lady swashbuckler) and the German roots of its owner, Jurgen. Finally, a place where you can get Jager Schnitzel with a side of Bangers and Mash.

O'Malley's is most notable, though, for its spacious interior, which boasts several bar areas, a taverny "cove" in back, and a schmoozy fire escape behind the building lending smoke breaks a West Side Story appeal. Just try not to trip on your way down. I did and nearly ruined my Hollywood moment.

One quick pass around the tiki torches at Mattison's City Grille (1 N. Lemon Ave., 330-0440), and you'll hear as many accents -- from Canada, Iowa, France and Russia -- as soul hits (the cover band plays a mean streak to an appreciative, mostly-retired audience).

After sampling Mattison's tequila selection, I approached a gaggle of visiting golfers from Vancouver.

"It's so nice to finally meet some young people here!" exclaimed one gray-haired member named Doreen. She put her arm around me. As my colleagues bellied up, I spent a solid 20 minutes with the B.C.ers.

But back at the bar, the gang was ready to go. "Only white people high-five each other after they dance," one friend shrewdly remarked, a mournful look in his eye. (For the record, this particular fellow is whiter than snow.)

Clearly it was time for a change of pace, so we ventured over to Tavern on Main (1528 Main St., 330-1387) for a hit of true dive-bar wonder. I suppose we have the hipsters to thank for this recent hole-in-the-wall renaissance: The Tavern, though lacking the creative decor and gimmickry we'd seen elsewhere, boasted some of the youngest clientele I'd seen all night, a collegiate crowd of black-and-polka-dot-wearing aspiring artisans and philosophers. Panic-stricken, I reached for the door. Oh Doreen, where have you gone? (Sing it with me: Downtown.)

Toasting a successful mission almost always means honoring its patron saint. The best act of reverence I could conjure for a glamorous icon like Petula Clark was a swingin' trip to Esca Restaurant (1888 Main St., 365-3722), a place supposedly favored by Sarasota's shiny set.

Esca's dimly-lit bar on the second floor can feel bone-crushingly narrow on weekends: Bending over to retrieve a fallen dollar will almost inevitably result in a spike heel to the face. However, the outdoor veranda affords almost triple the breathing room -- and a beautiful view of the city.

Some good people-watching goes on here as well; lots of T, A and $. But after the monster walk east and enough alcohol to disinfect every patient at Sarasota Memorial, I was ready to start the trek home. The rest of the gang stuck around, though, far from alone and nowhere near lonely.

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