High school where I had been teaching for twelve years that “He
had more foreskin, than foresight.” Was the best day of my life. Here it was the start of the 2008 housing crash, I was out of my teaching job and the house I
had just built eight months prior was completely upside-down. Finding a new teaching job in the area
was near impossible because I had too many years of experience; districts
could hire two first year
teachers, for the cost of my salary. So, like any well-conditioned American, I went back to school for two
years and earned my Master in Administration. Low and behold, I was in a catch 22, I had too many years
of teaching on one hand, and not enough experience to Administrate on the other. So, I did what any
normal person would do… I SOLD EVERYTHING! It was always a dream of mine to own a bar in the Caribbean so I started looking around; Costa
Rica, Dominican Republic, Panama, St. Martin and Mexico…but I fell in love with Placencia the moment I
stepped off the Tropic Air plane in 2011. I knew this was the place for me. I originally looked at a few
places that were already constructed like The Pickled Parrot, Purple Space Monkey and even Bolsen’s
Chair (Currently, The Point), but nothing caught my eye. My next option was to find a piece of land and
build the bar of my dreams. During the construction I wrestled with what I was going to call my bar, and I
found myself reminiscing about a trip I was on with my parents in 1992. We had taken a trip to Cozumel,
Mexico. On the second day we rented scooters to tour the little island. We found ourselves stopping
every quarter mile at a new little shack on the beach for cold beers and margaritas. It was around the
fourth or fifth shack, and half-way through my 12th or so beer (yes, I like to drink my beer), that I told my
parents, “This is what I want to do the rest of my life”. My father tilted his head sideways and said, “What kid? Get drunk everyday…we are already
sending you to Chico State (the #1 party school in the nation).”
My reply was simple, “No. I want a shack on the beach, put my toes in the sand and sell
margaritas and beer.”
My mother chimed in with, “That will happen the day pigs fly.”
Hence the name, THE FLYING PIG. Many guests come in expecting BBQ, but honestly, my bar is
about dreams and what can be achieved. It is about supporting the community and making everyone
feel welcomed. A place where you can come to be around family. A place to play cards, join in on the
nightly events, or maybe you are just feeling too sick to cook and you want our staff to make you a warm
bowl of chicken soup. The Flying Pig is more than just a bar, it is my home, and everyone is welcome to
visit (until I, Patrick – the owner, is thirsty and wants to go for a beer, then we will just close the bar early
and move the party to a new location and spread the love).
