This weekend my annual to-do list shrank by three items: I got my car emissions checked, I cleaned out my fridge and most painfully, I gave in, hoochied up and let my wild child friends drag me downtown for a night of bar hopping. I'd take the poking and prodding of my dentist over a night of high heel-wearing girl fun, but for the sake of a friend's birthday, I agreed to participate in a Saturday night of bar-to-bar debauchery.
We did the one-drink stop at Shaker's, followed by a cameo at The Hangar before treading the well-worn path down Main Street several times over. Not surprisingly, it's impossible to get a drink at China Blue's downstairs bar--especially during the witching hour, when all drinks are only $2. We counted our lucky cherry bombs that the bathroom bartender rocked. Then on to the grand re-opening at The Cactus, where badass bikers now congregate in chaps and where that one bartender continues to ignore most of his customers. The Bistro is still a meat market and the bouncers are still bungholes, but damn it if the patio isn't always full of people I know. Sadly, it doesn't matter how much you love the Red Room, if your stilettos and ultra mini put you in the wrong demographic for Saturday night's crowd, you may want to sit out that round. We deflected dozens of dirty pick-up lines, consumed more Red Bull than should be allowed by law and then decided after-hours dancing at The Loft was a good idea. The five-buck cover got me a stop in the well-used restroom before ducking out for late night grub.
The best part of my night? Enjoying my pizza while thumbing through the Playgirl magazine gifted to the birthday girl. Thanks to $2 drinks, the damage to my wallet was minimal, but more importantly, now I'm off the hook for every bachelorette and birthday party headed my way over the next 12 months.