Nightlife

Nightlife. My city is rather odd in this respect. On the one hand, it has a surprising amount of places to go after hours, but the caveat is that the only real thing you can do is get drunk. Now, I've got nothing against getting drunk. In fact, I enjoy a good drink and time out laughing, socializing, and participating in general debauchery. The only issue is the ratio of bars to, oh, I don't know, dance clubs, pool halls, and other establishments where you can get your drink on, and do other things as well.

Since hitting a bar is more or less a given on a night out in my city, this poses the next question: Where? 90% of the bars downtown are all clustered together on a waterfront street that stretches as far as the eye can see. Drinking establishments on this strip come in all sizes and flavors, from blue collar working class bars, to obnoxious frat boy bars, to neon-striped martini bars, and everything in between. The problem is they're all clustered together in this one street that is a constant venue for a parade of drunken idiots of all sizes and genres. You should see the police presence thirty minutes before last call. You'd think that martial law was about to be enacted. So while there are plenty of options on this street, they're all squished together in a clusterfuck of beer drinking morons and state power. Obviously, this isn't my local of choice when I want to get my drink on.

This has led me back to one of my older haunts, a hipster bar called the Whiteheart. I love and hate this bar at the same time. On the one hand, it's the only bar on its street for a good half-mile, which results in a homogeneous population and a relatively calm environment. On the other hand, I hate this homogeneous population. The bar is directly across the street from an art college, so 90% of the patrons are young, hipster, "too cool for school" socialites who walk under a palpable cloud that they're the hottest thing in fashion this season. Just wait until you start a conversation with them. You're struck by an overpowering urge to rifle through your pocket in hope of finding a needle that you can use to pop their straining bubble of ego and overvalued sense of self-worth. But I digress. They're better than the frat boys.

So what's a drink of choice on a cold night downtown? I have to confess that sometimes I get the overpowering urge for a "girly drink." Granted, I've only had an Alabama slammer once in my life, but then again, I really enjoyed it. If I'm feeling in the mood for a femme drink, my usual poison of choice is a white Russian. God damn, I love those things, especially when chased with a PBR for the surreal combination of tasteful class and white trash. Oh, and always remember to tip well - it'll come back to you in the form of bigger drinks.