Week 43: Buy A Round of Drinks for A Bar

The first shot into Operation B Minus is probably the easiest of the remaining resolutions.  The goal is simple, buy a round of drinks for a bar.

Though, asking around, I found there was very little advice for how to do this.  Many questions exist:

1.  What constitutes a round?  Do I sit there and wait for everyone to make their own drink order?

2.  How does one go about buying the round?  Do you stand up with trumpets blaring and announce it?  Or do you silently work in cahoots with the bartender to arrange the round?  The former smacks of that special flavor of "look how much better I am than you" wall street douchiness. 

Editors note:  I am aware that posting it on the blog does not exempt me from this douchiness.

Ultimately my goal is to be more this:

Than

Really how much better would life be if we stopped to ask ourselves "how would Mr. Rogers buy a round of drinks for a bar?"  I don't have the answer but I hope it would involve toy trains.

3.  Finally, which bar?  Do you go for the sparsely populated bar.  Do you go for the dive, or the happening hot spot?

As it was pay day and Friday, I decided to just wing it and set off.   My travelling companion for this particular adventure was none other Fucking Eric.  A legend in these parts.

Equally likely to play an important part in saving the world or destroying it.

Rather than getting a reputation as the guy who buys rounds in my neighborhood we set off for capital hill Colfax.  A charming little strip of homeless alcoholics, young aspiring alcoholics, and with a standard sprinkling of bros and hipsters for flavor.

We first hit a couple of bars in the area, which for one reason or another didn't feel right.  Finding a bar to buy for is a lot like falling in love,  you just have to feel it I guess.

Luck was on our side though as the alcoholic version of cupid was floating around that night.

There are a surprising number of results for an image search of drunk cupid

We found ourselves at Nob Hill.  Which has to be own the title of best dive in Denver.  

Per official dive rules though minus 10 points for having a sign that is visible

Equal parts red and black, like the Twin Peaks midget would show up and start dancing at any minute.  Filled with smiling people of all walks of life.  Not a single one of which was looking to hook up.  Dark and dank, and with a juke box of only mix cd's  there could be no other bar deserving, not on Colfax, not anywhere.

 

 

It's like swingers had sex with a Bukowski poem

The next step was simple, I secretly spoke with the bartender and asked how these things were done, and she suggested just buying everyone one drink.  Which in retrospect was the obvious way to do this all along.   She lined up many many shots.

That man left a drool spot

The shots were given out, I was able to stay relatively anonymous, and life went on as normal within 1 minute. 

As it should be.