What, exactly, do you look for in a bar? Do you want an atmosphere that reminds you of the south side of Milwaukee circa 1964, where the walls are dark woodgrain and the light filling the room emanates from beer signs the likes of Schlitz? Do you actually want a beer like Schlitz, or Pabst Blue Ribbon? Do you want a predominantly male clientele, and, by predominantly, I mean four men individually drowning their sorrows? Do you want to not walk very far from your 800 or so block of East Johnson apartment? Do you want to listen to good music but have no hope of dancing because there isn’t enough room? Do you wear uniforms for fun from places that you will never work or would never physically be able to work at because they existed about 30 years ago? Do you like using single syllables to describe your bar of choice? Would you like something to drink that doesn’t use the words “apple” or “tini” in its title? Then the Caribou is for you. And only for you, because your friends are too lazy, not nearly motivated enough, or too prissy to walk the extra four blocks. And, really, there are a slew of Madison bars to choose from. People choose this one because it’s close and cheap, and you can refer to your experience as if you were “slumming.” Not many other people will know where you went to, and therefore you are better than they are.