|A Google Maps search |
of "bars". Thank you Google
Maps. Thank you.
The bar, be it a pub, sports bar, dive, club, music hall, or any other establishment that pours the sauce (I'm looking at you Ruby Tuesday) has become a right of passage and the lessons we've learned are worth passing along.
Personally, I learned that the juke box isn't a direct message from God to me. The songs that come were not written with me in mind nor was my life the inspiration for the lyrics. They are also not instructional in nature. This means "Total Eclipse of the Heart" is neither a message about a former lover missing me nor is it a directive for me to literally "Turn around."
I've learned that dancing while drinking is a calculated risk. Dancing with heels on is dangerous so removing your shoes is an option, but you risk forgetting them and stepping in something nasty.
Giving out a fake name/phone number combination can end badly when you see them at Panera two weeks later at lunchtime and in front of your co-workers he says, "Jasmine, why didn't you call me back? That wild make out session in the bathroom hallway at Lit was one of the most meaningful four minutes of my life."
I've learned that my pool playing and dart throwing improves incrementally with each drink and then once I hit an unknown critical mass I am a danger to myself and others holding a pool cue or a handful of darts.
The Dream Team contributed to this one, in what will undoubtedly be a series of posts. I had no idea how much we all learned from the bar and how much content we would have to work with. This, in turn, taught ME two things:
1. My friends and I probably drink too much.
2. The bar is an excellent investment in one's education.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the Dream Team:
|Maurya looks like she|
belongs on the cover
of a vampire book in