It’s Friday and you have to leave the week (and especially the memory of that lousy Psych 101 exam) behind you. Mill Avenue beckons. Are you starting out on the terrace at The Handlebar? You will because you are trying to be pandemic conscious but also because you like to start slowly with a few cold beers and the beer menu on the handlebars is impressive. The sausage bread on the next table looks delicious, but it’s too early to eat in the evening. Maybe at the next stop. Related Stories I Support Local Community Journalism Support the independent voice of Phoenix and help keep the future of the New Times clear. But then it turns out that your next stop is the Varsity Tavern across the street where you run into a group of guys and decide to hang out. The pale ale is flowing, and the company isn’t entirely hideous, at least until your ex shows up and you rush to the exit. Next door at the Mill Cue Club, you’re sure a game of pool will take your mind off your failed romance, and after your third Manhattan and probably your seventh game of One Pocket, head to the door and weave through a sea of pool tables and wonder how many could be in this restaurant. Some chow will soak up all of the rye and vermouth, so head over to the Zipps Sports Grill for a plate of wings at the bar. The bartender is nice to you, so you let her talk you into a zipparita, a kind of tequila smoothie that isn’t bad. It doesn’t do much good about the hangover you’re preparing for, however, so be back on Mill Avenue after a trip to the loo, thinking about going home when someone – Gah! What’s the guy’s name? – calls you from the terrace in the Pedal house. You hop over the outside railing and grab a sidecar and a pretzel while what’s-his-name (Dale? Don? Street at Mill and Southern Avenues. You think you can do worse than a dive bar and a little live music to get around) to wind down the evening so you agree to join him. Yucca has standing room only and you’re back to your beer because your old friend (Danny?) orders you a Sam Adams without asking what you want Whatever its name, it remembers your favorite beer. If your old buddy isn’t looking, you sneak out the door and walk back down the street towards home. The word “night drink” comes to mind and you find yourself in the low Key Piano Bar where you want to end the evening with a hot toddy and a soft ivory bell, but there’s a party after you’ve joined a group of tank top medical students and swallowed a trio of Jell-O syringes , recall Not much more. Except for the name of this guy who comes to mind during a loud, loud two-piano tribute to “Proud Mary”. Dave. His name was Dave.
[ad_2]
