I’ve been back to the bars in Iowa City — the town where I got my undergraduate degree — a number of times since I left three years ago. And every time, my college friends and I have stood around feeling just plain old. Not old like the non-traditional graduate-student…
It starts out so normal, my inaugural trip to Micky Manor (2544 Federal Boulevard): warm greeting from a group of friends watching the Broncos trail late in the third quarter; pitcher after plastic pitcher of Natural Light, poured steadily into six-ounce glasses and accompanied by complimentary shots of a yellow…
Something about the Thunderbird Lounge (721 Quebec Street) makes me want to take off my shoes and get more comfortable, maybe hang my coat in the hallway closet and then grab a bite from the fridge. I’ve never been here before and know only the people I came with, but…
Fuck Man Law. You know what I’m talking about: those now-canceled Miller Lite commercials where a panel of dudes drunk on their own testosterone decided what was manly and what wasn’t. Examples: When toasting with beer, the bottoms of bottles should be clinked because clinking the tops would swap saliva…
In this space, I’ve dehumanized Denver’s homeless to a disgusting degree (The Ginn Mill, October 4), comparing them to open-sored, echolalic zombies worthy of scorn and contempt. I’ve also championed our city’s homeless (Star Bar, October 11), celebrating one man as a hardworking, down-on-his-luck type of guy worthy of my…
Maggie and I arrive at Pat’s Philly Steaks and Subs (1624 Market Street) just in time for fifty-cent beers. Except according to the bartender, there’s no such thing. “Fifty-cent beers?” Charlie growls at us. “You think you’re going to find fifty-cent beers anywhere in this town? Shit, man. I get…
Some of you may know that I am neither moralist nor ethicist, nor a particularly good person of any sort. I am a journalist, which means that I have tried to report facts in a way that both advances my self interest and garners me more readers than my professional…
During the two-plus years I’ve lived in Denver, I’ve watched the menu at Atomic Cowboy (3237 East Colfax Avenue) transform from a one-page leaflet offering mini-corn-dog nugs and potent garlic fries to an impressive array of American-meets-Southwestern options (including some of the richest mac-and-cheese in town); I’ve watched Tuesday nights…
There’s something to be said for an almost-empty bar. Actually, there’s a lot to be said for it. For me, the benefits begin with being able to belly up, a privilege I enjoy on more than one visit to Dixons Downtown Grill (1610 16th Street). As any barfly will tell…
It’s been almost ten years since I last puked. Ten years without a flu vomit, a binge-drinking barf or even so much as a little spit-up. I used to be very proud of this — of the fact that on my 21st birthday, I drank 21 shots in two hours…
No best out of three. No deliberation about what number we’re going to count to before throwing. No time to over-think things. This is drunken Rock Paper Scissors, and the loser has to pee in the sink. But it’s no big deal. In fact, it’s my idea. As fourth in…
I’m just starting to peel back the label on my third Bud when Terry slides onto the stool next to me at the last great dive on Larimer Street. I’m at Star Bar (2137 Larimer) to watch the Rockies’ post-season tie-breaker game against the Padres; Terry’s here because he works…
News flash: “Writing itself, but poetry in particular, doesn’t pay the bills,” says James Belflower, a local poet and organizer of Potlatch Poetry, a website dedicated to the free exchange of poetry and other literary ephemera. “So part of Potlatch is trying to avoid having older items just disappear or…
During my first two years as a Coloradan, I lived in Capitol Hill. Not the Wild Oats or Queen Soopers Capitol Hill; not the Bender’s or Chipotle or Lancer Lounge Capitol Hill; not the Charlie Brown’s or Table 6 Capitol Hill. No, fuckin’ Rent-A-Center, Famous Pizza, Scooter Liquors, Burger King…
“The best way to describe this issue,” says Jake Adam York, editor of Copper Nickel, “is if you threw a rock into a body of water and watched those ripples move throughout. Where the rock hits is obviously the point of deliberation, and while everything else may seem a little…
College was a very intoxicating time for me, as it was for many people I know, especially my brethren who went to Big Ten universities in small, liberal Midwestern towns like Champaign, Illinois; Ann Arbor, Michigan; and Madison, Wisconsin. But my time in Iowa City was different. When I showed…
In case you were wondering whether the 39th annual Oktoberfest Denver celebration will be worth the price of parking, consider that the first three hours of the free, two-weekend festival (October 19-21 and 26-28) will feature beer-belly, pretzel-eating, chicken-dancing, keg-rolling and beer-pong competitions. Chew over the fact that the price…
It used to be that charities and fundraising organizations would use kickball to appeal to former playground warriors nostalgic for their junior-high glory days. But with at least three respectable kickball leagues co-existing in Denver and fifty teams of ten-plus players signed up for today’s third annual Make-A-Wish Foundation Charity…
This is how utterly shitfaced our bartender is: He’s considerably more drunk than I am, and I’m in 1:30-a.m., slumped-over-the-bar, double-fisting-PBRs kind of shape. But I’m happy, and so is he. I can tell from the way he grins and laughs every time he over-pours one of Darren’s whiskey and…
I have a very simple policy about eating meals while drinking: I don’t. Not, at least, when my goals for the night include over-inebriation. Snacks and appetizers? Fine. But big, juicy bacon cheeseburgers with jalapeño cream cheese and a side of fries? Sweet Christ, never while boozing, and never, ever…
“After years of people in Denver saying, ‘God, we wish we could hear you guys,’ and people going to absurd lengths to wrap wires around their houses to pick up our signal, or driving their car and parking on a certain spot on a hill to hear a program, we…
The Photo Atlas is already into its second or third song by the time I get to the Marquis Theater (2009 Larimer Street). Adam Lancaster, who runs Morning After Records, the band’s label, meets me out front. We head straight for the bar and order two of the club’s signature…
