The Irish Hound

One last night to howl.

It's been an excellent run — and with any luck, we've introduced you to a few great bars, a bunch of good ones and several to avoid. My only regret is that we didn't hit all the bars suggested by bleary-eyed readers, especially the crew out at the Golden Cue. Of all the bars we visited, though, we've never found a better saloon to celebrate almost anything than the Irish Hound. This place has it all, from the patio to the drink selection to the people. They took in fifty of us Institute idiots and treated us like royalty (we usually get that kind of recognition only in our own minds). Above all, they provided the perfect spot to recall four years of ups and downs, change, hangovers, greasy breakfasts, regrets, big tabs and the friendships that only a few hours of heavy drinking can produce.

I think it's all pretty much summed up by the drunk guy's greatest expression of emotion: "I love you, man!"

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