Another night of drinking with the lads. One of the guys wanted to hit this new place that had opened up downtown, but I refuse to wait in line anywhere - particularly at the type of club that starts a lineup before the club is full. That's just not cool. And this lineup was extending far past the building before 10:30.
So we wound up hitting another bar down the road that was packed and boring. There was some promotion going on for some new beer that's been released, and there was a free round of that for the entire table, but it wasn't particularly good. I'll stick to the Heineken and the Keith's, thank you. And the odd Guinness, of course.
We got bored of that place and went to yet another bar that was just as packed and just as boring, so we finally went back to the old faithful watering hole, which also had a lineup, but it was because the joint was jumpin'.
Fortunately, they know us there because everybody from the company drinks there
So the doorman let us jump the line (which I felt bad about, but if you can resist the VIP treatment, then you're a much better person than I am). Still, it just wasn't our scene, so we had our last drink of the night and parted ways.
We were discussing the line-jumping, and one of the guys relayed a story from the doorman as he fended off an increasingly angry lineup of poor freezing folk outside on a previous line-jumping occasion:
Irate Would-Be Patron: "How come you let those guys go in?"
Doorman: "Do you know what those guys do for a living?"
IWBP: "No."
Doorman: "Well, what those guys do is the reason they're inside and you're still out here."
(I should point out that the irate guy was being a bit of a wanker and that the doorman really is a great guy. I should also point out that the most relevant aspect of 'what we do' is that we work in the office building around the corner and spend a pile of money at that bar every year)
Like I said. I feel guilty. The people in line were getting snowed on and were likely to pump just as much money into the joint that night as we were. But it's fun to be rock stars, even in small doses.
So we wound up hitting another bar down the road that was packed and boring. There was some promotion going on for some new beer that's been released, and there was a free round of that for the entire table, but it wasn't particularly good. I'll stick to the Heineken and the Keith's, thank you. And the odd Guinness, of course.
We got bored of that place and went to yet another bar that was just as packed and just as boring, so we finally went back to the old faithful watering hole, which also had a lineup, but it was because the joint was jumpin'.
Fortunately, they know us there because everybody from the company drinks there
So the doorman let us jump the line (which I felt bad about, but if you can resist the VIP treatment, then you're a much better person than I am). Still, it just wasn't our scene, so we had our last drink of the night and parted ways.
We were discussing the line-jumping, and one of the guys relayed a story from the doorman as he fended off an increasingly angry lineup of poor freezing folk outside on a previous line-jumping occasion:
Irate Would-Be Patron: "How come you let those guys go in?"
Doorman: "Do you know what those guys do for a living?"
IWBP: "No."
Doorman: "Well, what those guys do is the reason they're inside and you're still out here."
(I should point out that the irate guy was being a bit of a wanker and that the doorman really is a great guy. I should also point out that the most relevant aspect of 'what we do' is that we work in the office building around the corner and spend a pile of money at that bar every year
)
Like I said. I feel guilty. The people in line were getting snowed on and were likely to pump just as much money into the joint that night as we were. But it's fun to be rock stars, even in small doses.
If I had to guess, I'd say it was that low-carb Sleeman crap they were pushing at the first place--am I right?