Let Us Resolve
Somewhere along the line some pear-shaped self-help guru foisted the notion upon us that we can completely alter our miserable, wretched lives by making resolutions every New Year. To not be fat asses, to not drink or smoke, to stop huffing glue, etc. Then you're at a party a few weeks later and someone's passing around a bag of Elmer's. Your resolve goes right out the window and that'll be that.
I've said it before: Resolutions are for suckers. If you really want to lose that weight, you'll lose it through sheer willpower and post-meal vomiting. An arbitrary date on a calendar isn't the answer.
Since no one will really improve their lot in 2011, I've put together a few realistic, bar-related resolutions for all of you drinkers out there. I'm going to help you begin the year by being less of a jerk when you're out on the town or in my bar.
Resolve to Drink Up. I don't mean that you should drink more. I'm telling you to trade up in quality. There's a major difference between rail liquors and shelf liquors. The price is one of those differences. But just because T.G.I. McHoodigans is doing $2 rum and Cokes doesn't mean you have to swill down 14 of them. Drink up, and drink slower.
Resolve to Use Manners. Say “thank you.” Say “Hello, how are you” Attempt to not leave crap all over the bar or table. Simple things like this go a long way and every server and bartender will recognize them and treat you with a million times more respect than the regular uncouth clowns that we're used to dealing with. If simple manners are beyond your brain's feeble realm of understanding, then don't bother leaving Hooters.
Resolve to Smile. Tough guy. Or did you really come to a bar to flex on other guys and start trouble? The other guy came to get laid, and you're making it much easier because his button down looks great compared with your Affliction T-shirt and general fight club disposition.
Resolve to Dress and Act Like a Respectable Lady. You thought I was serious? Ha. No, I'm quite happy with the state of slutification that the female 18- to 29-year-old party crowd is going through. Keep on keepin' on, ladies.
Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Bud
Remember college keg parties? Me neither, but I would imagine they were something like the Bud Light Port Paradise cruise that I just returned from. Just add a casino, the Caribbean, Bahamian drug-dealing lifeguards, 50,000 aluminum bottles of Bud Lime and about 7,000 unattractive drunks. Which I suppose if you went to Longwood would be exactly like the keg parties you remember.
There isn't much to say about our experience on the high seas. We imbibed like cirrhotic pirates, hit on every girl with a pulse (and some without), and I managed to go up $1,700 on the Let It Ride table, only to lose most of it in a drunken haze playing three-card poker at 5 a.m. Yeah, I almost took a swan dive off the lido deck after that one.
At some point a couple told my friend and me that we won the award for the hardest partiers on the ship, which is saying something. Something very, very sad. …
If you need me I'll be curled up in the fetal position till February.
Richmond bartender Jack Lauterback slings and consumes drinks at a number of local establishments. He blogs at Jackgoesforth.blogspot.com. Follow him on Twitter @jackgoesforth. Email: firstname.lastname@example.org.