Much has been written about the sports bar’s role in hetero mandates and the zoned-out contemplation a male psyche occasionally craves. A place like King’s Hookah Lounge (1806 NW Couch St., 719-6456) shows it’s universal. Men sit silently under Somali and Lebanese flags, the young ones with laptops, the older ones watching European soccer or reading yellowed periodicals. They slouch across drab couches, the kind women hate, drinking tea and puffing lazily on flavored tobacco ignited by crudely cut charcoal. Yes, even cultures forbidding alcohol consumption have places where you can space out with a mildly intoxicating substance. A sign says only two people can share a hookah, which is key to keeping out college kids who might be otherwise drawn to a place that’s open until 4 am on weekends. Shaq once stopped in, his photos hanging on two walls. It’s easy to see why the big man would love this place—it’s not like he can hang peaceably at a normal sports bar.