I’ll trade you the T206 Honus Wagner for a crazy waiter. My friends and I trade bad waiter and waitress stories like baseball cards, and though I will always love Benny’s, the bad waiter stories are so plentiful here that they’re comparable to a no-name Rockies relief pitcher in the…
It isn’t often that I have no desire to go out (though it seems to happen more and more as I “mature”), and the other night was one of those rare occasions when I just wanted to park my butt on the couch, crack open a beer and contemplate religion…
I’m pretty sure it was Albert Einstein who said that matter cannot be created or destroyed — or maybe it was Bill Nye the Science Guy. Either way, at some point in our academic careers, we all learned that this was true sometime, just as we learned that heavier things…
Run, Forrest, run! The only time I run is when someone is chasing me (if then), and perhaps because of my unwillingness to run, I’m fascinated by people who do — particularly the freakish marathon runners. So when my friends suggested that we meet at Mezcal at 6:30 a.m. to…
I imagine that a true baseball fan would be blissful at meeting Babe Ruth’s great-grandson. Politicos probably panic when they’re introduced to a Kennedy scion. Brits blatantly blanch when they see that little convict Prince Harry. So when I met Frederick Booker Noe III, I was speechless. Freddy, as I…
My computer’s dictionary defines a “tavern” as a place that sells beer and other drinks and sometimes serves food. I would agree with this for a start, but a real tavern is so much more. A real tavern is in the upper Midwest. A real tavern serves Tombstone pizza cooked…
Although I’ve tried to systematize my life, the truth is that I’m organizationally handicapped. So when I saw the pricing sign behind the bar at the Bulldog, I was astounded by the brilliance of the concept. Kelly-green dots on bottles meant they were $6, Day-Glo orange meant $5, and so…
Relations between men and women have many unresolved issues. There’s constant bitching about the quantity and quality of sex. Also, no couple on earth can agree on a reasonable definition of “clean.” Guys know something is “clean” if they’ve sprayed a liquid on it, then wiped it up with a…
A guy hugged me recently, then looked shocked. “After living on the West Coast,” he confessed, “hugging someone with real breasts feels funny.” Chain restaurants are the cultural equivalent of fake boobs. They used to be few and far between, but now, like breast implants, chain restaurants are everywhere. And…
I don’t know if it’s the wasabi, the gallons of alcohol consumed or simply the social act of gathering over raw fish, but something about our sushi runs makes the Institute of Drinking Studies wax poetic. We should videotape the proceedings so that we can later review them and figure…
While enjoying an economical Jim Beam and Coke ($2 all day, every day) at the Stadium Inn, my friend Terri told me that she’d enjoyed her first legal cocktail at that very bar in 1975, as she celebrated her 21st birthday. But the Stadium was around long before that. In…
This week’s lesson is ethics, which are very important if human society is to progress. Without ethics, you end up with such horrors as insider trading, Enron, the United Nations and Ralph Nacchio. Luckily, most people are ethical; the problem is that ethical behavior is often in the eye of…
Loud motorcycle, muffled manhood. Recently a group of my friends decided to meet for brunch, ideally in a spot with a great outdoor patio where we could enjoy the glorious weather. Tired of our normal routine, we hit on El Noa Noa, a Mexican mainstay that dates back to long…
When a woman over the age of thirty asks where she and her single friends should go for a drink, I always suggest Capital Grille. Yes, I know I’ve derided chain restaurants time and again, but for some reason, upscale steakhouse chains don’t have the same taint (don’t get me…
As they only have a few remaining months here in Denver, we’ve decided that the Scottish Representative and his wife need as much exposure to our stunted version of America as possible. The real challenge will be avoiding overexposure of ourselves in the process. There are some truly American institutions…
For me, venturing into Northfield was like entering Dante’s ninth circle of Hell. I don’t like malls or chain stores, and Ling & Louie’s promise to deliver “an East meets West love story told in food” did not bode well. But the happy hour that runs from 4 to 7…
Cravings are bad. Whether you crave drink, food, nicotine, attention, women or drink, you often find yourself doing things that you wouldn’t normally do while in pursuit of your obsession. As a result, cravings lead to world wars, religious extremism and most major crimes. And hangovers. I was really craving…
We’d been considering the “world-famous” Islamorada Fish Company Restaurant (7974 East 49th Avenue) for an Institute night, but it didn’t seem quite right for my birthday dinner. Islamorada is attached to one of my all-time favorite stores — but would I really want to eat there? That would be like…
Ode to a patio: I think that I shall never see/A patio as lovely when drinking Chablis. Or better yet, tequila. After the miserable winter we’ve endured, I’ve got the worst case of spring fever in the history of the world. While many people get out their Rollerblades, hiking shoes…
Have you ever felt really out of place? I’m not talking about the times you walked out of the can with toilet paper trailing from your pants, or even when, as a teenager, you had to skulk out of the classroom with your Trapper Keeper held low because at that…
Life after death. I’m sure it’s no coincidence that the owners of Vita, the Italian restaurant that opened in part of the old Olinger Mortuary in December, named their place after the Italian word for “life.” The interior is certainly lively enough, with its exposed brick, dark wood, leather booths…
I don’t like Sundays. You always feel like crap on Sunday and are most likely regretting something from the previous night. Or regretting that you have nothing to regret. In high school, we used to congregate at five o’clock mass to collect church bulletins and prove that we had cleansed…
