So we went to Kroger to do a little supply run in Portsmouth before we leave tomorrow morn. A hot hot day and we wanted to make the mile walk back to the shantyboat more interesting. A bar crawl!
So picture us in each of these bars with three heavy grocery bags and Hazel around our feet.
First bar: Frank n Steins, where a half dozen motorcycles were parked in front and our arrival sparked a loud random verbal altercation. Also our second beer was bought by a bevy of bikers who were freaking out about our shantyboat.
In every subsequent bar we went in, everyone said Steins was their favorite.
Second bar: Partytime Pub. Completely quiet at 7pm. Apparently this is one of two places where the kids go. And they’ll be here in about 3 to 4 hours. For now, there is only the jet blast sound of the AC. We did not get free beers because there is literally no other customer to buy then for us.
Later we learned this bar was simply called Dirty’s.
Third bar: the Irish Pub. Official name: Port City. Also quiet but it was time for a snack. Cheesy potato soup and a better quality beer than PBR. No one has bought us a beer yet though there is still time.
Fourth bar? Richard Noggins, a cavernous joint, completely empty except the bartender and her friend. We knew it would be quiet since this was another cool kid bar that gets fun at fucking 11pm. No PBR so had to settle for Bud Light.
Here at our fifth bar, the SevenPourOh, a little fancy hipster brewpub with excellent on-premises-made beers, we are making new friends and talking about stuffs. We had two rounds of pretzel sticks but didn’t have a third because we didn’t want to spoil our dinner at the brewery.
Interestingly, no one else at any other bar allowed that this place even existed.
OK, here’s the problem with a pub crawl on a Thursday night In Portsmouth Ohio: on our sixth bar? fifth? Seventh? Six? Patties & Pints was already closed, but we snuck in anyway and hung out there a minute to bullshit with the people in there. Age was able to drink some woman’s beer to make it official.
So an hour earlier, it was WAY too early to go to the bar, and now everythings closed? WTF? So much for dinner.
This would have been bar 7? 8? 9? But everything in Portsmith closes at nine or 10 including the brewery.
I’m not sure which stop this is. But it’s the last. The farthest one on this side of town, the one that everyone at every other bar told us was the scary bar, the biker bar, the bar where we’d most likely get stabbed, Pat’s Bar.
It was strangely hopping. I say strangely because while there was bumping hip hop pouring out in the streets, really there were only maybe a half dozen people in there. And they were turned up, yelling, dancing, cheering each other on. These weren’t young folks either, but the aging alcoholics you’d find closing down any dive bar.
Here, it turned out we already knew the bartender Stephanie through one degree of shantyboat separation who plied us with drink after drink until we stumbled incoherent to the shantyboat Dotty.