Two hours ago, Maggie and I arrived at William's Tavern (423 East 17th Avenue) with every intention of leaving. The plan -- as it is every time we start our night here -- was to wait for all of our friends to coalesce, have a quick drink and then continue on an informal 17th Avenue bar crawl. But each time we've tried (and this marked our fourth attempt), we've ended up closing the place down, and tonight is no exception. It's pretty much become a running joke among my best drinking buddies, to the point that, earlier in the night, Cole made me promise to actually leave this time. And even though I promised and really did want to follow through, I simply couldn't.
I have theories about why this happens, but no strong convictions. Bar games — including darts (my true bar love) and Silver Strike Bowling -- play an important role, as does the jukebox (when the staff hasn't pre-loaded ninety minutes of metal). But it's not like the drinks are all that cheap ($2.50 for a PBR can, $5 for most mixed drinks) or the clientele always amicable, as Captain Condescension proves. Maybe it's that I'm a sucker for tall buildings, and I can ogle the giant cash register while smoking without having to go to LoDo. But I could do that from any of the bars along our hypothetical crawl. I think what it comes down to is that I just really like to drink with friends — whether it's a Sunday-morning Bloody Mary while waiting to get into Bump & Grind a few doors down, or a bladdered bloodbath of binge drinking, like it is tonight — and don't need an ever-changing environment to have a good time.
Still, a blacked-out bartender never hurts.
What's your favorite neighborhood bar? Spill it to Drew Bixby at [email protected], and if he meets you there for a drink, the first round's on him.