Works hard, plays hard: Thatcher's in Gorham

The place is a bit of a freshman itself, having opened in January, but it's finally getting its turn at the college daze after older bro Thatcher's in South Portland blazed the trail. With a wide-open layout, tonight the brash younger sibling has its lights on at full blast, with a not quite octagonal bar gleaming like fresh powder at Sunday River.

For a place that would typically feature a sexier, more heavily shadowed lighting scheme it's a bit surreal to see the room cast in the flood of the house high-beams and buzzing Bud Light signs. This must just be the extended afterglow of the Pats' opening thriller from last night; bartender Kristi's #12 jersey corroborates as much.

There's no question that I would have handily squandered my education here if I were in college. Undone with a glance at one of those beautiful, frosty 25oz mugs, ($6.50 for microbrews, $5 for domestics), beguiled by the devilish rows of spirits, and tantalized by ridiculous app names like "Munchie Platter ($8.99 for deep-fried varieties)," it's clear early that this is the place you bring your best wingman-designated-driver.

Remember, its good form to save your most stand-up friends for the nights you expect to make the most bad decisions. "Yes, ma'am, for reasons quite out of my control, I'm going to have to order the Steak and Cheese Stacker ($8.99), the Fish-n-Chips ($10.99) and a bowl of that bangin' award winging chili ($4.99). Oh no, that's fine, you can bring them out all at once."

Tonight though, Thatcher's is lit a bit more like the college dorm study lounge. The bar is lined with the BoSox Bud Special, $2.75 for smalls and $4.75 for talls during game time. The molding around the walls is ornately hand-crafted with giant hi-def televisions, blasting the Sox game nearly 15 times over.

Behind me, there's an increasingly competitive darts competition, and outside of a cheery, all-female staff, there's literally 2 women among approximately 40 patrons. Tonight, Thatcher's Gorham has pulled off the improbable, a male-driven, beer-steered study hall, a veritable laboratory of sports and social analysis.

This is clearly not the pub's primary function, with vast square-footage for the requisite lovedrunk college courtships that will come to incubate here in the late September weekends. With $5 cosmos and margaritas on Ladies Night though, neither does the pub cater to a certain gender.

On an otherwise underwhelming school night, Thatcher's has offered a place for Mainers to mend their Pats-tattered vocal chords, and relive in relative clarity the weekend's multi-sport glories. The sensory overload will lovingly fill in all the sounds and pictures you wish you'd remembered.

Mike Olcott is a freelance writer.