Diving into Philly is my quasi-maniacal campaign to visit every (well, most) dive, divey, and dive-ish bar in Philadelphia. You can see my previous swings here, here, here, aaaaand here. Always interested in suggestions!

If you’re like me and carefully read through prestige publications for smart-sounding nuggets to use nonchalantly in high-brow conversation, you’ve probably seen a lot about loneliness lately. Here’s America’s Dad David Brooks chiding us in The Atlantic for being sad and mean, and Paul Krugman in the Times says we’re too lonely and it’s killing us. Bleak. Both men identify a long list of culprits like drugs, isolation, and social media, backed up by libraries of well-thought-out social science.

I don’t have much in the way of evidence or facts, but I would note the national descent into sadness coincides with the nation-wide decline in neighborhood dive bars, including in my hometown of Philadelphia. Call it a hunch, but I can’t shake this nagging feeling there’s a connection between the two dispiriting trends. Since coming to Philly almost a year ago, I’ve found the city’s quirky, daring, and wildly welcoming bar scene to be a perfect venue to learn about local neighborhoods, pal around with residents, and set up circles of acquaintances. You know, the kind of fraternal environments America needs more of.

Obviously, regular drinking carries lots and lots of serious health risks, and you shouldn’t rely exclusively on bars to make friends. Still, I can’t help but think if we spent a little bit more time sipping cheap beers or tap water with each other, we’d all be in a better place.

I do go on. Anyway, if you’re feeling blue and want to make a friend or ten in Philadelphia, here are some choice spots to frequent.

The Jim. Tucked in a nondescript spot off 8th street, the Jim isn’t a looker from the outside. But if looks were everything, I’d be far more successful. Peak inside (or sit at the outdoor picnic tables, it’s probably nice out) and you’ll spy a simple, intimate square bar bathed in low neon. The bottles of High Life came fast and the service is a riot – hands down some of the coolest, funniest bartenders in Philly. Also, and this was a super pleasant surprise, the Jim serves up the best Asian street food I’ve had in recent memory. The kimchi dumplings and wings were so sublime, our afternoon snack quickly became dinner. With money bartenders, cold beer, and lots of fun locals, the Jim is just a very hard place to leave. So don’t walk on by, don’t leave, just go in and vibe forever.

Locust Bar. A little closer to civilization i.e. Center City, you’ll find the unassuming Locust Bar. Nothing special to this splot, just dark wood paneling and nice booths to stimulate conversation. Med students in scrubs, burly roadies, and eager boomers talking about how bitchin Woodstock ’94 was (this happened, I saw it). It’s a nice Philly casserole. I’ve been to Locust in the early evening and late nights, and the crowd is always interesting. Oh and there’s plenty of Yuengling, if that’s your thing.

McGlinchey’s. Similar to New York City and Washington DC, I’ve always found the urban core/downtown area of Philly to be a bit lackluster. Yeah it’s great for the tourists and all, but it’s not the colorful gonzo Philadelphia I’d show reprobates/friends. So, if you’re trapped in the vanilla urban cavern and looking for a refuge, it’s hard to do better than McGlinchey’s Bar, a lively bar with a no-frills aesthetic that blends pre-Vatican II midwestern church with VFW hall. I’m a late comer to McGlinchey’s voluminous lore, but it doesn’t take long to realize this bar has character. People smoking, DJs trading notes, 60 somethings watching the Phils. I got a promotional beer tasting out of a cooler, which I enjoyed. I also had High Lifes from a non-surly bartender (apparently they have a reputation, but I judge folks as they come). I loved it and recommend it aggressively as an evening spot.

Triangle Tavern. I tried to get into the Triangle on two occasions but was turned away because of overcrowding. Good sign! Triangle Tavern has stood on 10th Street since 1933 under several different owners and iterations, but it’s maintained the “no frills, just neighborhood” vibe that attracts me to Philly’s divish bars. Take this ringing endorsement from a police officer and customer, quoted in 2001:

“Sergeant Gavula shrugged. ”There’s no fights” at the Triangle, he said. ”The food’s good.”’

Boom, buoyed by faint praise. The Triangle’s stark, simple white sign shines bright in South Philly, seducing you with its simple, homespun charms. Eclectic art and Philly kitsch lines the walls including a life-size portrait of Gritty on the outside. A loooooong serpentine bar greets you right as you walk in, like a siren song on cold nights. I’m told the food is good, so you can play with that as well.