Cover Story continued

Downtown, Chinatown, The End

Oct 7, 2009

Bar Crawl 2009

Margot Seeto

Running behind schedule, we had to bid limo Jeff adieu and hopped in a cab to our home base–Chinatown–knowing that we couldn’t hit all of our beloved spots. First stop, Manifest. I don’t know why I ordered a whiskey and ginger ale. But it was a painful experience to finish the whole thing. Meanwhile, I watched Adrienne build a coaster house, Ragnar drink water and Mitchell sipping a gin and ginger ale.

Thursdays at thirtyninehotel’s Prohibition have become a regular thing for us, so we were determined to make it. I was out of the drinking game, but Adrienne and Ragnar magically bounced back. I remember closing my eyelids a little too long every time I blinked. People asked me how I felt. “I think I’m already hung over,” I replied. We threw in the bar crawl towel sometime before 1am. I would end this with a wistful line about how I’m not as young as I used to be and can’t handle drinking marathons like back then. But the reality is that I’ve never been able to go on 12-hour benders. The test of endurance is always painful near the end. But the department that writes together must drink together. If you ever see us out, you’ll understand why.

Mitchell Kuga

Catch a taxi at 10:42 which takes us to Manifest at 11:03, where the DJ is spinning a steady stream of Erykah Badu.

I ask Brandon about the series of pictures hanging on the wall, and he quietly explains that it’s for a benefit for New Day Kids called 2by2. Sigh. He makes me want to be less drunk and more political.

After drinking a gin and ginger, my last drink of the night, we stumble over to Prohibition. There are a few small crowds gathered outside, but it’s decidedly low key.

Guy: “Hi what’s your name?”

Margot: “Uh, Margot.”

Guy: “You look like that lady from Beetle Juice.”

Margot: “Oh, thanks…I get that a lot.”

Eight hours later, the crawl ended, with neither a bang nor a whimper–just a slight headache and many memorable moments.

Bar crawls should be done in even numbered groups. Perched on bar stools, it’s difficult having conversations in threes.

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