Just like Seinfeld had Monk’s, I’ve got Billy Jack’s

I think it’s because I grew up on 90’s television. Seinfeld had a cafe called Monk’s. Friends had a coffee shop called Central Perk. Even the 8-year-olds on Arthur had the Sugar Bowl restaurant.

They’re your default choices for pre-games and after parties. It’s where you discuss dating, rant about politics, and debate sports hot takes.

They’re the refuge from All-Star Games and national conventions. Those kind of places that turn cities into homes.

I want to tell you about mine. It’s Billy Jack’s Shack in NoDa.

This lovable little spot has locations in Virginia, but their presence as a casual, affordable dining option in the heart of NoDa has added a much-needed low key dive atmosphere to a neighborhood growing increasingly expensive.

It’s low risk, high reward, uncomplicated fun.

Here’s a standard Billy Jack’s night.

I realize I want to go out for a beer, but I don’t want to muscle through 22-year-old millionaires in South End just to accidentally order a sour because the bartender couldn’t hear me over some blaring folk rock playlist.

So me and a few friends head to Billy Jack’s around 8:30pm.

I don’t have to worry about finding street parking in NoDa, because there’s a spot open in their parking lot. We walk in and seat ourselves underneath the awning on a converted church pew.

A server who’s memorized my name brings me my beer club (called the Bone Club) tracker.

Once I get to 100 beers, I’ll get a free t-shirt. If I’m one of the first 20 to do it, I’ll get my name engraved on a mug that hangs over the bar like a United Nations flag.

I’m up to 86 beers. It’ll be the most expensive shirt I’ve ever earned, but well worth it. It’s getting hard to find beers I haven’t added to the list yet, but they’re doing a tap takeover tonight, so I’ll have 4-5 guaranteed new ones.

We get a basket of tater tots for the table. I order the mix and match sliders, the Mike Teevee (I’m obsessed with those caramelized onions) and the Greg Brady (whoever thought of putting mac and cheese and BBQ potato chips on a burger is a genius).

It’s one of my friend’s first time, so I make sure she orders the Sticky Nuggs.

These perfectly fried nuggets are tossed in house made sauces and served in a Chinese takeout box. It’s Instagrammable af and turns everyone into an instant BJ’s addict.

My other buddy, an old pro, gets the Hunter S. Thompson 10 Napkin Burger. It comes with a knife through it like the heart of Davy Jones. The melty cheese and mushrooms overflowing from this absolute unit of a burger smells amazing from across the table.

It all comes out in under ten minutes.

There’s no confusing craft cocktail concept.

There’s no trivia host shouting questions about The Office.

There’s no long-winded explanation of the menu.

It’s just good beer, good food, and good times. We spend the night talking about Bumble, complaining about work, ripping some dumb article we all read that morning, and roasting each other.

Years down the road when we all have kids and we don’t all still live in Charlotte, nights like these will blend together into one hazy memory: the good ol’ days, we’ll call them.

I’m not saying you have to  go to Billy Jack’s Shack to do any of this. It’s not about their funky decor and big screen TV’s or bathroom graffiti.

All I’m saying is part of falling in love with Charlotte is getting a “spot.” Billy Jack’s is mine. What’s yours?