As promised, a few words about the pub crawl (more photos here): It was devised and led by L.A. Weekly fellow (that's his actual title) Matt Fleischer. Matt's a veteran of such ambulatory debauchery, and he pulled off this caper with aplomb. Matt and I met up at the Tiki-ti at 6 p.m. (making us the charter members of Los Feliz Pub Crawl 2007), after which we collected Kat Berger and Andrea Bricco at El Chavo; Rena Kosnett and siblings Frank and Sasha Openchowski at Good Luck Bar; Mel and Erin at the Drawing Room; and Micah (not Muzio) at Ye Rustic.
After that, we hit some Thai place with awful vodka drinks and the White Horse, my new favorite drinking-and-hot-dog emporium. Yes, that's right: On the bar, they have bowls of hot dogs in buns. If you want one, you just signal to the kindly Ukrainian beer maiden, who will then microwave it for you. Ketchup and mustard are on hand.
Kat tells me we tried to get into the Dresden, but I don't remember this. By that point, the fine melange of alcohol in my bloodstream had rounded the edges of my brain, which explains my highly questionable decision later to sing karaoke at the Thai joint ("I Love Rock 'n' Roll" and "Hang On, Sloopy").
You know what I think about pub crawls? They're great -- as long as the establishments are picked carefully, and the people onboard are champions. This night could have gotten lame real quick if a few complainers or divas were around. But this group was champion caliber through and through. There were lots of new introductions made that Saturday, and I can safely say that by the end of the night, everyone had new friends.
A few other thoughts:
- Dammit, drinking can just be great sometimes. It's obviously not best to down multiple rum drinks, Jameson's, beers, and Manhattans on a regular basis. But if you do it every once in a while, there's no better way to quickly clear your brain's inbox and start fresh. I was physically forced to take it easy on Sunday, which left me fresh and full of vim for Monday.
- Los Feliz is a rad neighborhood for a pub crawl. It's a totally walkable area crammed with top-shelf bars and people friendly enough to take pictures of us with Andrea's gigantic Polaroid.
- Calling your Pop on Father's Day at 9:30 the morning after downing buckets of booze and crashing into bed at 3 a.m. makes for a choppy, raspy-voiced, but ultimately fun and memorable conversation. Especially when you reach him just as he's taking a practice test for his upcoming underwriter's exam, and he's a bit preoccupied himself.