If my friend and I had known about the Skee-Ball league, we’d have probably visited Skyline Pub a little later in the evening this past Wednesday. The cozy, slightly dimmed sports bar sits across Sheridan Boulevard from Sloan’s Lake Park, a haven for west-side sports fans that, like the nearby Lakeview Lounge, also has a fantastic view of downtown Denver and the lake – though we didn’t swing in to watch a game or participate in one of the other activities now hosted at so many bars.
The mission was chicken wings, and the wings were delicious. Prices were on point, and we discovered Skyline has an impressive array of non-alcoholic beverage options – not water and Dr. Pepper, but Heineken 0.0 and Grüvi N/A beers.
We weren’t there to drink, either, but we couldn’t help but notice the glass-doored refrigerators with vats of bright-colored infused spirits, primarily vodka – mostly candy infusions, like Starburst and WarHeads and Jolly Rancher, along with pepperoncini, pickle, jala-pickle, and peanut butter and jelly flavors.
Neither of us are the sort to pound pickled vodka (or do Jello shots, for that matter), so our interest in the neon vats was brief. Until I noticed a not-quite-life-sized cardboard cutout of Ric Flair, the flamboyant former pro wrestler known as the Nature Boy, next to a sign with his name in bold lettering and one of his many catchphrases, ‘WOOOOOOOOOOOO!” under a stylized caricature of Flair in front of the Denver skyline.
The sign advertised a deal offering those same electric-colored infused shots for $10 — along with a smelling salt. It spurred an immediate WTF directed at the bartender: Smelling salts?
“It’s the smelling salts the Avs use,” the bartender told us. Apparently recreational smelling salts is a thing with pro athletes.
I wasn’t having the infused shots, but I ordered a smelling salt immediately. What was I missing out on?
A sinus explosion that threatened to fire pus out of my left nostril and left eye, the ammonia inhalant hit like a truck. I struggled to understand the attraction, as I lifted the now-pink sachet again to my nose, its fumes mostly tapered by now.
It must be a novelty offering, I reassured myself. My companion wouldn't even sniff my used ammonia packet, but did agree to indulge in a peanut butter and jelly shot. "Really fruity and just feels really good going down," he reported.
I attempted to slide a cracked-open smelling salt under his nostrils. “No, no, let’s don’t. No, no, I don’t want to do this. I refuse. Sorry, bro.”
My curiosity was not sated. The next afternoon, I returned to the scene with my friend and dialed up the owner of Skyline Pub, Bobby Derian, who was at the other bar he owns, Players Pub on South Broadway.
It was Thursday, when Skyline offers all-you-can-eat wings for $12.99 from 5 p.m. to 11, but today I was on a mission for smelling salts. To my surprise, Derian offers them at both of his pubs, and says they’re extremely popular.
Derian reassured me there was no ritual with the ammonia packets, whether the smelling salts come before or after the Ric Flair shot – though again I turned down the infusion.
“I grew up playing hockey so we were always doing smelling salts on the bench,” Derian offers by way of explanation. “As I’m sure you know if you watch the NHL guys, they still do them all the time. Me and the buddies would have them in our pockets when we went out on the weekend and just doing smelling salts for the fun of it.
“You can imagine it’s a little better for you and more cost-effective than some other substances that you might get,” he laughs.
Asked to characterize the effect, Derian says, “It’s just a Ric Flair slap to the chest. Then you gotta scream ‘Wooooooooooooo’ afterwards, as loud as you can.”
I summoned Christian, the bartender. He was critical of my decision to forego the shot, but handed over the goods.
The box I had taken a photo of the day before was now empty at 3 p.m., opening time. Christian cracked a new box open.
I grabbed the sachet, crushed it on the “crush here” dot and took another hit. Again, my left eye felt like it could shoot pus across the room – I did the best “Wooooooooooooo!” I could handle as my vision blurred and a metaphorical Ric Flair blow landed square on my chest.
