Liquor Lecture

By Lex Marburger
illustration by Chris Sherman

It has come to the attention of Lollipop that many of our readers enjoy imbibing an alcoholic liquid every now and again (and again . . .). In the public interest, we offer a Lollipop guide to Liquor. Please note: We are trained professionals and the “experiments” that follow were not attempted by “casual” or “social” drinkers. Lollipop assumes no responsibility for the actions of any drunk person, including its own staff. And ask Mom first, okay?

• More Feedback…

This whole “write in and tell me you’re a drunk” thing is going really well. I’ve been getting piles of kindling… uh, letters from intoxicated sentient life forms on all sorts of subjects. For example, I got this from Christopher Rich:

“I just got turned on to you guys today. I think it’s great, but I would, however, like to see an article on bar-hopping. What is bar-hopping ‘really’? …I’m missing something. The fun has gone out of it. The challenge is not plain to me.”

Alert! Alert! We have a Code 5 on our hands – someone bored by drinking! Call out the troops!

Seriously, though, your question is a valid one. Why bar-hop? What’s the point of leaving a perfectly good bar to trudge outside to find another one? It reminds me of one of the first things I learned about Germany. When you’re finished with your drink, never ask for “another beer.” The bartender will look at you and say “What’s wrong with that one?” Always say, “One again, please.” That’s sort of the way I feel about bar-hopping. What’s so wrong with the tavern you’re in, that you have to leave and go to another? As I pondered this question, I realized that neither I, nor anyone I know, associate with any kind of bar-hopping troglodyte whatsoever. The reasons I can think of for someone to engage in this weird behavior, save for one, do not bode well for the serious drinker:

• Bar-hoppers are annoying social locusts who descend on a bar, schmooze and wheedle their way into others’ social lives, and then swarm away to the next bar when the life is sucked out of their immediate surroundings.
• Bar-hoppers are more concerned with decor than drinking, and must constantly change their environment in order to stay interested, rather than focus on the more important aspect of life: inebriation.
• Bar-hoppers are in a constant state of denial, refusing to admit that they are going out solely to get drunk (otherwise, why not just invite a few friends over for milk and cookies?), and rationalize their drinking through socialization, i.e. bar-hopping.
• Bar-hoppers, almost always found in groups, are incredibly indecisive and can’t decide where to go, so they’re forced to split drinking time between several places to keep friendships or get laid.
• Bar-hoppers have no money of their own, and must travel from bar to bar, scamming drinks off random people (for example, telling each person that it’s your birthday). Actually, this is a pretty good reason.
• Bar-hoppers have ADD.

Of all these explanations, I can only think of one semi-valid reason to bar-hop: If one place cuts you off, you have to go to another bar if you want to keep drinking.

If you’re still not convinced, and you actually want to try out this amateurish activity, I’d suggest making a game of it. Specifically, a game that I found on the Web called “Pub Crawl.” What you need for supplies are people (in pairs), money, and a list of bars within walking distance. This game, in its simplest form, is a race. The two people who choose to be partners become a three-legged team by tying one of their legs together. Then, depending upon the number of teams, everyone starts at the same bar. The procedure is that each team must consume two beers (one per person). As each team finishes their beers, they quickly head onto the next bar, preferably after paying, still joined at the leg. The team that finishes their beers at the last bar, wins. Wins what, I don’t know.

Actually, I did go bar-hopping once, but I had a good excuse. My girlfriend and I were visiting Missoula, MT one summer. A big college town, Missoula has about 20 bars, most of which feature their own microbrews, and all are within walking distance. We decided to go on a walking tour of the pubs. We didn’t want to call it bar-hopping, you see. Starting out at about 6:00 PM, we worked our way down the strip, encountering poetry readings, piranhas, bikers, jocks, geeks, novelty condom machines, interactive TV games, poisonous food, and all sorts of beer. After the sixth or seventh pub, I wanted to hit the strip club, but she wouldn’t let me (and I have a feeling that “fresh hops” meant something entirely different there). Anyway, we stumbled back to the hotel after about 15 bars, and subsequently passed out. The plane ride home the next day was, to say the least, excruciating. And that, my friend, is the only time I went bar-hopping. These days, when I get the urge to go drinking (which is often), I like shacking up in my favorite watering hole (preferably with wood paneling), getting a pint or five, and relaxing with a book or some friends in the dimly lit atmosphere, slowly going blind, and not bothering to go out in the cold (or the heat) in search of… whatever.

If you have any questions, dilemmas, or other points of confusion that need clearing up, send them in to Lollipop and I’ll get around to them, after I finish this drink.