The Drink Undrunk: Bar Exam's Regrets
It's not the drinking one does that one ought to regret, but the drinking left undone. People often ask whether Bar Exam ever runs out of bars, and the answer is no, quite the opposite—new bars are always occurring (regardless of economic rosiness or pallor, drinking endures), and old bars remain to be investigated all over our fair city. Visitation upon one different bar per week could continue without end, a happy Möbius strip of drinks and snacks. (Bar Exam is now three years and four months old—a soused toddler.) The regrets are those of omission, not commission: the drinks undrunk (for now).
• I've intended to go to Oliver's Twist on Greenwood Avenue since it opened in December of 2006 but wanted to reread the book so as to be able to address the topic thoroughly. (The owners' son is named Oliver, making the name a special pun-triangulation irritant, but they reportedly have good snacks, including truffled popcorn.) This rereading was at last accomplished some months ago, then examination still did not happen, and now the book once again grows fuzzy in the mind's eye. A quandary.
• For the second year running, Talk Like a Pirate Day—September 19—went unseized. Actual sailors say the Jolly Roger Taproom in Ballard is THE place to be on said day. The JRT is also said to serve fantastic mini oyster po'boys. A debate on Slog about whether TLPD is played out was inconclusive; I cannot remember what befell me that night that prevented research. Next year, damn it.
• I have yet to follow up on a hot tip that a random human e-mailed about a place called Mix (or The Mix, or Mix Lounge; the internet disagrees with itself) in Georgetown. The hot tip said: "Closest vibe to New York or London without getting on a plane!" Hot!
• On October 30, for unrecalled reasons, I failed to attend a Baconnaise™ event at Heaven Nightclub in Pioneer Square that involved both men and women (separately? Together? Unclear) and the Seattle Mudhens (not sure what they are, but I like the sound of it) wrestling in 200 gallons of mayo. A tragedy.
• Esteemed colleague Jonah Spangenthal-Lee offered this at some point: "Goofy's in Ballard is right next to a male strip club. Allegedly, the bar is a magnet for horny old ladies looking for any fresh meat they can find. I'm sure there's some comedy gold in all of this." Indeed.
The list goes, nearly literally, on and on, also containing Tini Bigs (now home to Jamie Boudreau), Spur, the bars of Wedgwood (sorry, dear neighbor to the whatever-direction-you-are-in!), Hidmo, and Slim's Last Chance (with this notation from an unknown source: "Trust me! Excellent chili. Go on a Thursday night"). Bar Exam's work is never done.