The Blake Street Vault And Bad Behavior

Perhaps a bad choice after a night of drinking?

Perhaps a bad choice after a night of drinking?

Friday evening was meant to be a relaxed night. Go to The Blake Street Vault, have a few drinks and snacks, some good conversation, and maybe I’d luck out and get shagged by Wisconsin (that will be the name of my current f-buddy who is moving to Wisconsin soon. Like I’d give you actual names…ha!). I’ve never been to this place but since it’s in Lodo (lower downtown in Denver) I didn’t have too many expectations. Lodo is not my favorite area on a weekend to go drinking because it gets stupid down there and I have a low tolerance for idiots.

After a brisk ride on Wisconsin’s scooter, we belly up to the bar at the Vault. After looking at the beer menu, which is not impressive but has some good craft beers, I decide to give the Moscow Mule a try. Never had one but it looked interesting enough (served in a copper cup) and I do like vodka and ginger beer very much. I should have taken the advice on the menu “Our Mules will kick your ass! We are not responsible for your actions”. Wisconsin has a Full Sail IPA and gets through it before I can get even halfway through my mule. This is the point where our arteries harden: on the food menu is bacon wrapped corn dogs. Oh yes! We couldn’t resist the bacon, so we ordered them.

Note: They need more bacon. The hot dog and corn covering overwhelm the taste of bacon. I’ll cover the beer in my next post. I promise. 😉

My face starts to get quite warm as I take the last sip of my first Moscow Mule. Good sign that I have a definite buzz on. So what would Dionysus do? Order a Mama’s Little Yella Pils! Wisconsin decides to jump into the fray and orders the Irish Mule. We might just be needing a cab later. His two friends show up and we get more beers and shots for the gents. The place is getting packed so we decide to bar hop.

A beer at Double Daughters, shots (apparently jello and tequila)  at the place underneath Double Daughters (I don’t remember the name), and then to Corridor 44 for more shots and some drinks served in champagne glasses. Fancy, right?

Note: I didn’t drink shots. I’m 130 lbs of twisted steel and sex appeal and my ass had to work at 10am the next morning. Remember kids, drink responsibly so you don’t fuck up your life because you can’t take last night’s mistakes back.

As the house lights come on, indicating the end of another night of drink slinging, we stumble out onto the street to find one of our party missing yet we gained a pair of sunglasses. The last any of us had seen him, he slugged back a tequila shot and wandered outside (we found out he had caught a cab home and woke up half naked on the living room floor with a half eaten Slim Jim in hand). Our party was now only three and the vote was to go to the meat slinger cart on the corner for food. Another first in my life: gyro meat in grilled cheese. Brilliant!

If you’ve never been in Lodo after the bars let out on the weekends, you should. It’s when human idiocy reaches a peak and those who are cynical, sarcastic and not schnockered beyond belief can laugh at the hundreds of drunkards stumbling towards home. After our 2am snack, we part ways with our last comrade and hop in a cab for home. I’m not going to tell you what happened once we got back to my apartment. But I will leave you with the best quote of 2011 so far:

“I have two things to tell you. One: I’m pretty drunk so I’m not going to fuck you tonight. I’ll take care of that in the morning. Two: I might snore alot and fart.”

Well played, Wisconsin.

3 thoughts on “The Blake Street Vault And Bad Behavior

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