World Cup Fever

Have you heard about it? Apparently Patrick Sullivan's in the Old City didn't get the notice. I'm no soccer fan but I wanted to take in the USA vs. England match to experience the hype and hopefully see an exciting game at the highest level. King Randall The Insufferable and I decided to meet at a bar to watch the game, and naturally we waited until the last minute to choose our venue. The obvious downtown locations, Soccer Taco and Crown & Goose, were standing room only. I was already in the Old City and Sullivan's was open so I pressed my face to the window and saw a mostly empty bar. Great, problem solved.

It was only a few minutes until match time (kickoff?). The small TV behind the bar was tuned to something else and the large TV above wasn't even turned on. The single patron at the bar paid his tab and left. A soccer-seeking couple entered and left immediately, disappointed by the lack of soccer hooligans I suspect. So there I sat alone until KRTI strolled in. We had the game switched on the small TV. Eventually other patrons arrived and some were actual soccer fans there to watch the game, though not very many. The game was put on the big TV, a few more customers came in and the game turned out to be a dud, at least in my opinion. The USA earned a 1-1 draw on a lucky goal that was muffed by the English goal keeper. Overall it was a good time and the lack of soccer enthusiasm at Sullivan's didn't matter that much at all. The best part of the "experience" was a 4 -5 beer head start on the rest of the day.

Many Thanks(woo! Hell yeah!)

I would like to express my appreciation and gratitude to Patrick Sullivan's right here in Knoxville's Old City 'district' for their upstairs digs. The de facto concert or band area for this establishment has served the authors well on several occasions. Strictly speaking, this is not a bar review, although it plays one on this blog.

Many of you have been to Patrick Sullivan's no doubt...decent beer selection, good(if standard) food, and an above average atmosphere. These qualities are to be expected at one of the few remaining veteran Old City establishments, and now the saloon can boast about the great addition of the adjoining BBQ joint as well. Cool, or tits, as they say.

Now that shit is out of the way, lets talk about the 3rd floor as concert venue. First thing the drunkard will notice is the split railing on the stairwell allowing both simultaneous ingress and egress. This is some proactive shit for around here, as most joints would just have a confused mass of morons milling around like a communist country's bread line. While the band area is against the far wall and is otherwise unremarkable, it does have the benefit of being some distance away from the bar...allowing the hot bartender to hear what you are saying. Furthermore my primary bar peeve of idiot shitheads standing around in the queue is also mitigated.


(Unknown Hinson says don't loiter near the sumbitchin' bar)

Anyhoo, we all bought rounds at a time which adds a robust sense of peer pressure and gamesmenship to the affair. The restrooms are also located upstairs, which is a huge plus for the music lover who might otherwise have to haul ass down two floors to utilize the primary facilities. This is manifestly awesome when you are at the Unknown show, which lends itself to extreme beer swilling and party liquor comsumption by nature.

The biggest thing PS can boast about up top is the ease of movement during a crowded show. That's fucking huge for the drunkard's overall comfort...which is the key point that many clubs and venues here in K-town often overlook. The goddamn bar down the street could take some fucking lessons, but that's another post for another day.(Oh and there will be a day of reckoning and a totalling of sums on that score, you trendy and apathetic hipster assholes)

One curious note that was briefly mentioned during some recent comments: the beer pricing made zero fucking sense, causing me to think that perhaps we were being undercharged. It's nice to be on the right side of a billing discrepancy let me tell you, and the general consensus is that even the beers we paid full price for were in fact quite reasonably priced.

In other words, Patrick Sullivan's has the hook in. They will reel us back in again and again until they fuck it up somehow.

Monday Hangover

Oh god. These hangovers just keep getting worse and worse. Not necessarily the alcohol withdrawal and headaches, but more exactly the ass-kicking my body, mind and social reputation take week after week. And sometimes the aches are backed up by scars for evidence.

All my bitchin' and whining aside, this past Friday was some of the most fun fun fun I've had in a long time, and definitely the best group outing we've had since starting the blog. No, fuck a group outing. This was a Drinking Summit - a planned night of boozing that is worthy of capitalized letters. All the authors of Drinking Knoxville were there (see upper right section - I'm too lazy to type them here). We met, we drank, we carried on, we drank more, we moved next door, drank some more, ate and drank, then moved across the street and drank some more, we cussed, we lied, we made fun of each other, we made fun of strangers, we smoked and drank, and then moved on to yet another bar and really started drinking, shots, shots, shots, shots, singing (loud, awful singing), more drinks, and I think that's about all. Then I went home and started breaking shit in my condo. A great night all around.

Okay, maybe I can provide a little bit more information. This Drinking Summit needed to happen for a number of reasons:

• We all knew it was our last hurrah before the Vols officially ruined the season
• The authors had not been together as a group for a long time
• I felt compelled to get very drunk in public
  

We started our evening at Sullivan's in the Old City. This location was a last minute replacement after discovering Calhoun's on the River had been infiltrated by the Jort Nation and there wasn't a seat to be had anywhere at the outside patio. Undaunted by their presence we quickly move to the backup location and continue our drinking quest. Sullivan's used to be a favorite college hangout where you could arrive early, grab the large front table by the window and drink as long as you had money to spend. Things haven't changed all that much in 10 years because that is exactly how we started the night.

One of the funnier things to start the night was watching this guy in a wheelchair. (Before you start damning me to hell it should be known that he is a notorious panhandler around those parts known for his unusual behavior) We noticed this man "walking" through the intersection while sitting in the wheelchair about the same time a patrol car pulled up next to him. The cop was obviously aware who this person was because he also had a smile on his face just watching the man walk his chair from place to place. The "wheelchair walker" was rather drunk and started disrobing as time passed, and I wish I could've taken a picture of him raising his can of booze to us in salute as we all watched the show.

We then moved on to the Backroom BBQ and continued the summit. We were drinking heavily and food became necessary at the rate we were knocking 'em back. If you haven't been there before I would recommend it to anyone who likes bbq. (Ask what is fresh because they smoke different things on different days) The brisket sandwich is my favorite but it wasn't fresh so I went with the pork sandwich, still a solid choice.

Drinks, drink, drinks. We admire the classic Schlitz beer sign that was at the head of the table and wished the new, old recipe was available around these parts so we could have some of that old school brew. Soon enough, but for now we soldier on.

We're gaining momentum at this point and roll over to Manhattan's where we run into all kinds of people we know. Who knew people still went to these same bars just like back in the day? It was good to see some familiar faces in old places. The drinks keep coming, Coors this time. Banquet beer. Ah yes, I'm feeling it now. We all are, but not enough to slow down. We change venues for the 3rd (and final) time of the night and move it up the road to Preservation Pub. That is where the shots come in. Jager, check. Goldschlager, check. Kamikaze, check. I think I'm forgetting something but you get the idea - a shot parade!

One of Knoxville's best little cover bands, Big Bad Jukebox, was playing that night and they sounded great as always. We're feeling no pain at this point, I'm howling at the moon (or band), jokes are flying, laughs are shared, and we get outta there in one piece. I think that I mentioned going home to break some stuff. That wasn't the goal, just what happened. Mission accomplished!

End of the night?