Great Drunks of the Silver Screen

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you Arthur, handsomely portrayed by the late great Dudley Moore.


Superpowers: Drinks served on platters, naming daughters Vladimir, wealth beyond the dreams of avarice

Arguably the most recognizable of movie drunks in the postmodern era. Would that my drunken cabal possess a manservant of Sir John Gielgud's wisdom...

Arthur: Hobson, do you know what the worst thing is about being me?

Hobson: I should imagine your breath.

An Open Letter-

to the wretched androgyne wading amongst us last night at the pub. Oh, is it a boy or a girl? How clever. How very 1990's Imperial Drag.

Look, you would repulse me enough based upon your mannish attire, worn in such a way to obscure any potential mammaroid sightings. Your walk is indicative of the chain-wallet crowd, and your fake tan is baffling given it is summer and you could obtain some shade via natural means. Most stunning at all is your choice of hairstyle, known to all as the Horn of Aggression. Get a load of these examples:
















Sweet merciful Jesus. Death take me quickly. You realize, sexless man-woman, that this particular abortion of style has unsophisticated roots long documented in cave drawings?
Get the message? No? I will elaborate further, you shame yourself and worse yet everyone around you as every bar patron is forced to contend with your personal choice. The beer tastes flatter, and no one knows which bathroom you are going to use. It's extremely poor form.

If being compared to a Cro-Magnon, Neatherthal, or Australopithecines doesn't motivate you to change, allow me to also point out you resemble the douchebags of Jersey or Long Island. I mean, we've all seen these cliched pics circulating around Al Gore's internet for years now, but since you didn't get the memo:


I weep for the future. Until nuclear artillery is an option, please stay the F out of my bar.

Tuesday Night Drinks

This Tuesday promises to be another great installment of TND. Not only will there be drinks aplenty (no kidding), but tonight we have a special out of town guest visiting all the way from Philly, PA - Lt. Rocka! I should say passing through because he is on a long-ass road trip - driving from Philly to Los Angeles to live in paradise. Not knowing when he'll be passing this way again we need to show him a good time and make this visit to K-town one to remember.

Now Rocka is a UT alum and knows this town from top to bottom. Or at least he used to before "the Strip" was converted to a sandwich/chicken finger concession stand and West Knoxville stretched to Turkey Creek. Nonetheless his ample skills will be enough to get him through 1 night in our little ol' town. I'm sure we'll start by front loading at my place awaiting his arrival. After that is an open slate. Lt. Rocka is all about the music scene so I may scour the local listings to see if anything decent is happening. In the mean time I've included a link to his music downloads if you're up for some mixed music, spoken word and other crazy shit. Check it out, have some fun, you know the drill.

Bar Review: Sidestreet Tavern

Oddly, the blur in the photo closely mirrors my drunk ass vision at the time.

Today we review another of the 'short west' bars, this one firmly lodged in the quaint little mess...er maze of Homberg Place. Sidestreet Tavern looks to be a converted dentist or doctor's office from the 1970's, that is to say a weird layout and floorplan. For example, there are two bars of modest size on opposite ends of the place. To be fair, both bars are suitably equipped and comfortable...well placed televisions and perhaps the rarest of all bar gems--a damn jukebox with a proper artist list and volume keyed at just the right level. Bonus: Cute girl at the bar with musical taste at said jukebox. So far so good.

One of the weirder aspects of this place is the upstairs area. It's basically an open area that reeks of a converted bedroom or office. Cozy couches and some bar games give it the appearance of someone's living room. Seems a pretty cool place to loiter, but you will have to navigate stairs to get a refill. As we all know, stairs/steps are the bane of the besotted drunkard so tread with care.

Sidestreet offers a standard pub fare on the menu...nothing outrageous to be found there, and they have a liberal happy hour policy from 3-8 everyday. Not bad at all, although that information would have been more helpful to me with more than six minutes remaining. Shit.

This is one of the dwindling number of bars in Knoxville that still permits smoking, so leave your kids at home(where they should be anyway, you jackasses) and prepare to launder your garments afterward.

Oh, and for the love of God, don't park in the kitschy antique store parking lot. Sumbitches will tow your ass, as the ubiquitous signs proclaim quite loudly.

So, if you are in this part of town and want to drink a few in a place other than the Toddy's consortium...you're in luck, Sidestreet will take good care of you. The service is impeccable and friendly.

Monday Hangover

Goddammit I’m kicking mad!! Today was supposed to get off to a great start. Monday hangover was going to cover all the fun I had getting pissed drunk all weekend. All the beer I drank Friday starting at lunch. The beautiful new keg of IPA I have in my kick-ass kegerator. The 2nd drunk Friday evening going into the early hours of the morning. The cookout/bonfire Saturday night complete with whiskey drinking. And even further drinking Sunday afternoon at Sidestreet Tavern.

But no. No. Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. My laptop has crashed. Again.

Computers crash and burn all the time, but mine was just fresh from the repair shop for less than two weeks and it apparently has the exact same problem as before. So instead of typing my worthless, drunken account of the weekend on my private laptop I’m limited to my work PC. I’m so pissed off about it that I could really use a drink….

Haiku

Work ends on Friday
Weekend drinks for happiness
Monday sucks anew

Review: Slivovitz

And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. Revelation of St. John 6:8

With apologies to Mr. Blake, with whom I doubt very seriously ever expected his famed rendering of Death on horseback to grace a booze blog. Then again he probably never tasted the brutal horror that is slivovitz, aka Hellhooch.

This review is a curious one. To wit, the authors of this blog will each shudder and squirm when remembering trips to Restaurant Linderhoff in Farragut. Though we do not consume this murderous plum brandy often, we do feel a sense of shame and terror at the very mention of the liquor. Twice in recent memory we've journeyed deep to the west of Knox County for authentic German cuisine and atmosphere. Twice we've acted like boors, cads, rakes, and in one nasty case--the accused. However, that's a story for a different post. Lets stick to the topic and review at hand:

Fucking plum brandy from the Goddamn Balkans. This shit tastes literally like fire...I've often spoke of it in hushed whispers "like tequila made in a coal mine" and that's being generous. It defies taste. In fact, I'm not going to take this much further. This shit will kill you. Need concrete proof? Then consider our clinical case of young college student Slobodan Tyrone Washington Jefferson Radesvic Milosevic(no relation) aged 22 years:

Get the idea? Stay the fuck away from this shit. Your criminal record, your relationships, your family, et all will thank you. I am firmly convinced the Black Hand organization was on this tripe when Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated and thus triggered World War One. If you've ever seen our group at Linderhoff, you'll wonder why more global wars haven't erupted. Fuck the former Yugoslavian states with a board wrapped in concertina wire.

Novelty Nostalgia

On the heels of Lord von Lord's tirade against the mix-pack I was reminded of some other gimmicks, novelties, etc. from the past that I haven't thought of in a while. Shit like this has been going on as long as people have been drinking. Surely the ancient Sumerians had some annoying asshole going around offering the latest crazee straw made of reeds, "Gets you drunk faster" he would claim. Well, we've come a long way, baby. Check these out:


Aw yeah, test tube shots! Remember these? Who knows when these were first introduced, I'm guessing the 1980's. When first introduced they were probably the coolest thing anyone had ever seen. Someone had a cool idea, perhaps a theme party. Maybe some students finishing med school decided to throw a bash and dress as mad scientists drinking wild concoctions out of test tubes. RAD!

At about the same time another party favorite was making the rounds at college dorms, high school house parties, and even military bases. I've heard that secrecy was the catalyst behind this novelty. Anywhere alcohol was not permitted would be a great place for this one, namely high school teenagers living with their parents, underage college students living in the dorms, and yes, even military personnel denied the right to keep booze in the barracks.

The Jello shot. Oh, what better way to conceal your booze right under the authorities noses than in the innocent, kid dessert known as J-E-L-L-O? Bill Cosby never knew it was heading this way. I was first introduced to this gimmick while stationed at A-school right out of boot camp in 1988. I was only 18 and didn't have a clue about this furtive practice. We had inspections often, and sure enough one time we were quizzed about the tub of jello stowed in the mini-fridge. Either our platoon leader was cutting us pukes a break, or he had absolutely no idea, but we sailed right through inspection. We were free to go out for the weekend and do some proper, underage drinking.



You still see these type drinks out in the bars from time to time, but not very often. Which is fine with me as I've moved past the gimmicks. I drink bourbon on the rocks now. I drink strong beer. I drink rich, red wine. But every now and then it doesn't hurt to revisit the past and take one of those stupid shots. C'mon, you know you want to.

I rail at thee, mix-n-match six pack

For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.-- Kipling

Indulge me for just a moment. Yes, the reader may wonder what I have against the seemingly innocent practice of mix and matching one's six pack...but I say now that this practice is godless, deceitful, and most likely communist. Soviet even.

I was at the local food jobber over the weekend. Being a man, I of course went to the beer section where I notice a patron with the bland white cardboard container indicative of this egalitarian practice. Now this place for years posted signs imploring us citizens to refrain from the college era prank/rookage of repackaging Newcastles into a Miller Lite six packs which could save the crafty ( if morally flexible) student upwards of five bucks. This is a young man's game, and should be abandoned upon getting a decent occupation. I note with irony the fact that said grocery store now encourages their state sanctioned mixing...complete with a nice surcharge(ie fucking) for the shopper.

Back to the patron. I scowled at his effete purchase...wondering if he was getting some Tiger Lagers from Singapore, or perhaps some Abita. Instead, this asshole had two Miller Chills and what appeared to be some Hefe Weizen trash, plus two malt piss from Smirnoff.

Juno's cunt, have you lost your mind sir?

This is part of the problem...anyone weak enough with a pathological need to sample some beers should man up and buy a six pack of the brew. You don't like Stella Artois after one bottle? Tough shit fairy, drink the other five now and learn your lesson. That's not to say one can't go into a proper bar and try new beers or drinks...but that is the time and place for proper

experimentation, not sitting on your well explored sofa nancing about which low carb trash you want to drink next. Hell, I would have had more respect had this consumer loaded up his custom six pack with heavy hitters like Red Hook, Duck-Rabbit, or any of the fifty Sam Adams that gets thrust on the American public. Bud Lime/Chill? Awful.

To take single beers and turn them into some sort of heterogeneous experiment is wrong. You rob the beer of its strength when you remove it from its fellows...and cheapen your buzz in the process. To sum up: if purchasing a single beer is your goal, find a nice 40(they like it
with the word 'dawg' because it makes them feel like they're friends with the product) and proceed to the gutter...otherwise, purchase your beer as prominent thinkers always have: six, twelve, eighteen, twenty-four, pony keg, keg in that order.

Save that douchebag crap for the Smirnoff Ice drinkers.

The Countdown Begins

I just checked the UT football schedule and was disappointed to learn that our first home game (on September 13th, against UAB) is at 12:30 p.m. Ugh.

12:30 games mean that I have to get up at 7:00 and start downing screwdrivers by 8:00, in order to have any decent kind of buzz by game time. And there's a 50% chance that, after drinking all that vodka and then sitting outside in the hot sun, I'll pass out from heatstroke and dehydration at the stadium. Cool! (Seriously, it's happened before.)

I hate it when we have morning games before their proper time. Which, of course, is November.

Better Late Than Never

Well, lookie here. Scarlett O’Harlot is finally making her first appearance. Alert the media.

To all you assholes who doubted me (I mean, to all my dear friends), I apologize for taking so damn long to write. In my defense, I was on a Drinking Hiatus for a couple of months (read: rehab), and I really didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation. I’m here now, though (yay), and no, I wasn’t really in rehab (boo), just recovering from TMJ surgery. Which I don’t recommend.

And now for today’s topic: Drinking in Knoxville, “Short West.”

If you’re not familiar with the term “Short West,” it’s the name that the Knoxville Police Department uses to refer to the area of Knoxville between “Downtown” and (of course) “Long West.” I think it mainly encompasses Bearden, West Hills, and Cedar Bluff. I once did a police ride-along in the Short West “beat,” and that’s how I got all of this privileged information.

Here, I’m using it to refer to the area between Bearden, where I do the majority of my drinking (at the Back Door Tavern), and West Town Mall, where I do the majority of my shopping. (Not really. Actually, I do the majority of my shopping at Ashe’s Wine and Spirits.) For all intents and purposes, I'll use Northshore Drive and Morrell Road as the endpoints. There’s really no significance to me designating this portion of Kingston Pike as “Short West,” other than the point that I’m about to make, which is: Drinking in Knoxville, Short West seems to be at an all-time low.

Perhaps it’s a sign of The Recession (which may or may not be real, depending on whom you ask…kind of like global warming and Santa Claus), or maybe it’s just a sign of the boring-ness of the people in this area of town. Either way, the bars in Short West are having a hard time making it, and I, for one, am a little disappointed in the selection of drinking establishments that we’ve been left with.

First, there was the loss of The Spot. Sure it wasn’t the nicest place in town, but it had a decent patio and it wasn’t pretentious. At some point, I had heard rumors that the owners were going to open a second location and call it The Other Spot, but before that ever happened, they up and closed the original one. Which was unfortunate, really.

Next, there was the demise of Michael’s (due to some messy legal battles), followed by the rise of its alter-ego, The Palace, which also closed its doors recently. “Good food and fun since 1981” no more. A lot of people I know wouldn’t have set foot in this place for any amount of money, but I actually went there (more than) a few times, occasionally on Friday nights (when I wanted to dance) and more often on Wednesday nights (for poker). Say what you want about it, but I like a place that I can walk into and have a waitress greet me with, “Hey Scarlett, do you want your usual?” (Note: This probably happened only because I was one of the few customers who didn’t fall into the category of Dirty Old Men, and the waitresses were just happy to see me.) I recently read on the sign outside this place that The Palace will soon be replaced by something else, which had a funny name that I can’t remember right now. So, we’ll see how that goes.

And then, of course, there have been multiple closures at that place on Bearden Hill which, despite having a seemingly good location, can’t seem to make it as anything. I mean, there have been no less than, like, seventeen restaurants/bars in that building during the past few years (slight exaggeration), and I can’t remember a single one of them. (Okay, I can remember the Giant Panda, but I NEVER WENT THERE.) A few days ago I noticed that yet another bar will be opening up there soon, and I really couldn’t help but think, “What’s the fucking POINT?” I give it six months. No, three.

Which leaves us with Ray’s, formerly known as Kingston Alley. It’s certainly not the only bar in this neck of the woods (let’s not forget Little Ricky’s), but from what I’ve heard, it’s the only one anyone goes to. And by “anyone,” I mean the former Michael’s/Palace crowd. Which explains why, the other night, when some guy asked me if I’d been to “The Coke and Poke” lately, he was referring to Ray’s.

For the love of God, Short West. You mean to tell me that the only viable place to get drink around here is a place people refer to as The Coke and Poke? I’m gonna need you to do a little better than that.

Here’s hoping for a better economy.

The Functional Drunk-Movies

Apart from boozing on the water or camping, one of the great joys of summer drinking is getting torched before hitting the movie theater. Seems simple enough, but the truth is that since you are intertwined with "the sober" one must keep a level head.


Let us be clear...the majority of Hollywood's drek is barely tolerable when smashed, I cannot imagine watching such shiesse with a clear head. Consider this year...for every Iron Man, there is a dismal Shrek sequel(fuck you CGI money grab) and for every Batman there is a some tepid romcom that makes seppuku look like a valid option. It stands to reason that one should pound some drinks before going to the theater.


Fortunately, the industry is making it easier. For one, most places now have automated ticket machines that allow the hammered patron to avoid personal contact. Granted, it's not really an issue to breathe gin fumes on the pimply faced line-jobber...but no need to tip your hand. Stride with pride up to the ticket-taker and quickly move on to your viewing. I personally recommend drinking liquor drinks prior to the movie...beers just fill you up and force an ill timed bathroom visit, usually during the impressive space battle or early car chase scene. Despite the brevity of your trip to the pissoir, you WILL miss a salient point and thus rob yourself of the whole experience. Be sure and drink too much before the movie, lest you find yourself getting sober during the interminable 30 minutes of previews.



If you choose to booze during the film, some thoughts and advice. Flasks are the usual option, but be quick and discrete, as the flash of metal will cause some uptight religious type to report you to the usher before going home to his/her porn collection with smug satisfaction. If you have a darker color or plastic flask, you are good to go. Speaking from personal experience, I cannot recommend spiking your coke with booze. First off, that means you will spend a ten note on the smallest cup they have-possibly starting a drunken rant at such legalized theft. Secondly, in my case the bourbon will eat its way through the bottom. It's happened. Many times. Nothing outs you quite so quickly as liquor fumes dispersing in the theater(baffling situation, since most theaters reek anyway) and as said booze runs down the angled floor. Embarrassing at best.

In short, you've got some good summer films left...why not tie one on and increase your enjoyment. I know your fellow patrons will appreciate you for making a mundane trip out with the family more memorable. Good viewing, fuckfaces.

Tuesday Night Drinks

Yep it's that time again - Tuesday!! Tonight will be another installment of a favorite pastime known as TND. Do Tuesdays ever seem like the worst day of the week? Why not take the edge off with some drinks? For those times when you can't make it to "hump day" and need something to break up the week, having drinks on Tuesday night with the boys or girls is the logical thing to do.

Now I realize having drinks (getting drunk) on a Tuesday is no real accomplishment. Real drunks don't know or care what day of the week it is as long as they have their precious hooch. But for functional drunks like us there are certain restraints we must endure: jobs, bosses, bills, etc. That is why sneaking in a rip-roaring session of boozing on a Tuesday is a perfect distraction from all the other shit going on. Plus your boss is less likely to expect a hungover employee in the middle of the week. Besides, what the hell are you going to do on a Tuesday night anyway? Exactly, nobody makes plans for Tuesday night. There are only 3 requirements for a proper TND:

1. Invite at least 1 other person to join you
2. Get some hooch
3. Drink it - all of it!

There is no wrong way to go about this. Hooch of all types are acceptable and variety is encouraged. Wine is always a good call. It never hurts to have some fine spirits around to pick up the pace when things get bogged down. Beer is an obvious choice and what we will be drinking tonight (wine & vodka as backups).

By all means feel free to mix it up. Hit the bars - they'll love the business on a usually slow night and you'll have the run of the place. Move it around amongst your group of friends' houses/apartments to make sure they risk the probability of things getting broken. Or take a break from your usual drink of choice and try something new. Instead of your staple Jim Beam try Old Charter. Put down the Smirnoff Ice (egads!) and have a real vodka drink. Surprise your friends with an imported bottle of absinthe!! You get the idea, now go out there and drink tonight. Otherwise when you wake up all sober on Wednesday you'll feel just like all the other working schleps out there.

50 BILLION DOLLARS!!!!!

As most of you drunks have heard by now, Anheuser Busch has been purchased by a Belgian conglomerate for some $52 gazillion dollars. Many observers have commented about the "loss" of a great American institution, the greatest beer in the world, etc. I say good riddance - I've been over their products for years now. Most of what I've heard in the media is about loyalty: Will you still drink Bud even though it is no longer an American company? Do you feel alright spending your money on a Belgian product? And so on.

I see a dilemma for many locals. Call them rednecks, good ole boys, NASCAR fans, whatever - there are going to be a lot of folks scratching their heads wondering what the hell they are going to drink now to support the USA. I think the big labels in America are all owned by international companies: Coors, Miller and now A-B. So I guess we're all going to be looking forward to that revamped Schlitz recipe with greater interest.

My suggestion to anyone is to support your local brewery; it doesn't get any more American than that! Calhoun's has more locations around Knoxville than anybody else I can think of. Woodruff Brewing Co. (a.k.a. Downtown Grill & Brewery) operates right downtown on Gay St. Both of them sell by the keg and smaller sampler sizes. Or check out the beer aisle next time you're in the grocery or gas station and look for some options. There are usually plenty of regional and national brands to choose from, depending on your area. Of course the likelihood of any true Bud drinker taking this leap of faith is highly unlikely. It would be like telling them Dale Jr. is going to the F-1 series and asking them to root for that quarr, Jeff Gordon.

The only real consequence I can see coming from this acquisition that no one else has mentioned is something any REAL American should be worried about: SOCCER! Lots and lots of advertising money spent on soccer. Except they'll probably try to push it as "football". Douche bags. I bet Beckham was involved somehow. Fuck soccer. In the ass. FOOTBALL is American. Soccer is what the rest of the world does to kill 3 hours and all they get is a riveting score of 1-0, ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! You can't even have a score of 1-0 in football. Our teams score points while we drink and kill 8 - 12 hours at a time. That's right, we tailgate 4 hours, watch the game 4 hours, then celebrate/drown our sorrows another 4 hours. Take that Manchester U and Real Madrid. Real? Real boring if you ask me.

What am I trying to say? Hell, I have no idea, I'm rambling. In summary: Belgians buy Anheuser Busch = more soccer.

Review: Toasted Head Chardonnay

Not only do we not drink a ton of wine but even rarer that it be a chardonnay. That is why it gets a review, just to say we did it. This wine is what you get when you are label shopping for wine, I wasn’t looking at price tags just wanted to try something different, and it was. We were all grilling fish that night except Lord (ass), and this bottle looked interesting and chards are to be with fish said the snobs. Toasted Head is a California winery located in the beautiful farming county of Yolo, which is another way of saying we couldn’t afford land just west of us in a little county known as Napa. The name comes from toasting the heads of the barrels they age the wine in; I don’t care where the bear came from or its ability to breathe fire.
Their description goes as followed: Our Chardonnay leads with fresh, ripe pear and tropical fruit aromas that carry hints of mango and vanilla. The round, smooth palate features luscious stone fruit and tropical fruit flavors complemented by toasty oak tones. Characteristically round, smooth, and luscious, it culminates in a lingering, toasty-vanilla finish.
As usual their description is overdone, but that’s their job. I picked up on some of the fruit hints and defiantly the vanilla, but over all the wine was thin bodied and unfulfilling. Still drank every drop, but moved on quickly. Like I said; not much of a chardonnay drinker, so maybe this was better to some people than to me. Overall I will look past this wine next time but am still glad I got it, you never know till you drink it.

Happy Birthday, America.

After a sabbatical resulting from me forgetting my account information, probably due to the brain cells that held said information being killed by the nightly barrage of shots I've been taking, I'm back. Today, we celebrate our forefathers expelling the limey British bastards from the shores of this great land. Also, we should take a moment to give thanks to those who have and are protecting the freedoms the patriots of 1776 fought to establish. If you see a vet today, buy him a beer. That's the very least we can do.

Now, go out and get your party on America.

What a Surprise...

The holiday weekend is upon us - beware! A new & non-creative campaign by KPD drops the hammer on 4th of July drivers.

Chief Owen said, “Simply put, we will not tolerate motorists’ who are driving while impaired. If you are driving under the influence, you will go to jail.”

Well color me surprised. I have noticed those stupid signs they are so proud of and have two words for the ingenious ripoff: Fuck Off! I read the article about the new signs last week and was thoroughly unimpressed. So some broad saw similar signs elsewhere and decided it would be a good idea for Knoxville. What-the-fuck-ever. Like we need a sign outside the liquor store or a favorite restaurant to warn us Big Brother is watching.Fuck their DUI signs. Fuck their stupid campaigns. Fuck off in general.

The Irish Are Coming

Oh those arrogant Irish! I stumbled across a website yesterday about the 1st Annual Irish Festival of Knoxville. As a drunken Scots-Irish descendant you'd think I'd be excited about a new Celtic celebration, or at least supportive. But I'm rather confused by the whole fest. Do we not already honor their kind with a nationally recognized holiday in March? Is this some kind of reaction to Boston winning the NBA title for the first time in 22 years? Hardly. Apparently this is a fund raiser for the local police and firefighters associations. Ho hum, I guess that is okay, but do we need to have it in the middle of summer in freakin' July? I can see scores, perhaps hundreds of pasty-white "Celts" out on the lawns at World's Fair Park ready to burst into flames. (I hope to have my pasty-white arse on the lake!)

If you visit the site you'll find a brief history of Irish immigrants and public service, ticket information ($10 adults, kids free), vendor and sponsorship opportunities, and how the event will be Green. Get it, green? Irish Green - Environment Green. Whatever. Show me to the beer and whiskey vendors and let me drink - that's my heritage. I just hope the police benefiting from the event will let the crowd have a good time without making their arrest quotas on-site.

Tag is 40!

Our very own Tag Berauscht had a birthday recently and turned the big 4-0. Congrats for making it this far gramps - we're all thoroughly impressed that your liver has held up this long. Your dedication to daily-drinking has served you well so far, so don't go changing anytime soon. Well, change your Depends as necessary, but keep on drinking poopy-pants.

Back to Florida

No I have not made a second trip; why in the hell would I do that. No this is just something that deserved its own post. Ok so there we were near the end of our trip and we have barely left our little area, so let’s explore, let us see what normal tourist do, blah. So we head south to
Turns out to be as touristy as touristy spots get, blah. That’s alright I tell my self over and over, because we haven’t done any of this yet so one evening won’t hurt. Everybody else with us was there to eat; me just to drink. So Miss. Berauscht and I get to walk around to some shops while they wait on a table; not bad, some decent shops some tourist traps. Soon I get the call; table ready at the Hut. The place is all done up for your family of vacationers: fake trees painted on every post, fake stone figures, foe bamboo, blah. So I look down the draft line, all crap, as I remind myself it’s ok it is just one evening. They can’t even provide a decent bottle. I settle on a Makers on the rocks. It arrives at the table looks like a normal pour, but in a plastic cup; I once again remind myself. It goes down well and the Miss. and I want to go walking while they eat, so we ask for the tab. $11.00; I was ready for something around there so no big deal, until further review $6.00 for my Makers and $1.00 for the rocks. Yes a dollar for the ice. This is unacceptable, I didn’t order a mixer with it, no soda, nothing but ice. This isn’t some Euro shit hole where they covet ice like oil. I would have been happy to pay $7 for the drink on vacation but to seriously charge for ice and point it out is outrageous. This better not become a common practice; for ice is still too cheap for a restaurant not suck up the cost form other places. Another reason for drinking beer when out and whiskey at home.