You Are A Bartender, Part V

[Dear Booze]

As yesterday turns into tomorrow, you settle into a ratty barstool between Ryan and Tom and order a Rum and Coke. Ryan was about a half hour ahead of you and is already half way through his second Gin and Tonic. Tom has probably been there since five or six o’clock. He’s drinking his usual rusty nail with a Coors Light back.

Oddly enough, there are several regulars named Tom. But to you, it’s not confusing at all. Tommy is a bartender at The Firehouse Pub, a college hangout located across the street from the University; TomTom is a bartender at The Airport Lounge, which is NOT located at, or near an Airport; Ten Pin Tom bartends at Ten Pin Lanes, a bowling alley located just a few miles away; Big Tom, who isn’t all that big, and Little Tom, who isn’t little, but is shorter than Big Tom, work together at The Palace, a dance club which attracts an older crowd; and, of course, you are sitting next to Tom. Tom is about 45 or 50-years-old and works for a company that makes and sells awnings and patio covers. But on Sunday nights, he bartends at the Stardust Room.

Years earlier, well before you were old enough to legally drink, Tom started the Sunday Night Drinking Club. The rules were simple. To be a member you had to be at the bar on Sunday Night. Then, between Midnight and 2:00 A.M., you had to drink the following by yourself:

• 1 pitcher of beer
• 5 cocktails
• 3 shooters
• 3 shots

There were other rules too. Things like fouls for spilling or vomiting, prospective members had to stay for the entire two hours, and Tom monitored the proof of any chosen liquor. This last rule assured that the contestant didn’t down a bunch of pussy-proofed stuff like Malibu or Amaretto.

Although it sounds easy enough, it took you a couple tries before you were able to join. You learned that there is a combination of pacing and consumption order that is necessary to complete the task. Now, having been a member for a few years, it seems simple.

Other than your name written on a cocktail napkin and taped to the back bar mirror, membership doesn’t really get you anything special. But it’s kind of an elite club and you are proud to be a member.



For the next hour or so, there is a constant parade of customers. At first, they are your fellow bartenders and waiters coming in after their shift. But as it gets later, the crowd turns into a roughly organized assembly of characters that are mostly college kids but are mixed with gang-banger-wanna-bees, nerds, jocks, douchie-looking assholes, mustachioed hipsters, and small groups of half-lit girls. They are coming from a large variety of dance clubs, micro beer tasting rooms, and college hangouts where Last Call takes place by 1:15 A.M.

On Sunday through Thursday, The Stardust Room has only one bartender on duty. Fridays and Saturdays require an extra bartender to keep up with the late crowd. Dan and Carl have been the Friday and Saturday night team for as long as you can remember.

You and Ryan and Tom are in a groove, the drinks are flowing, the conversation is upbeat and fun, and none of you can give a shit about anything else in the world. You are exactly where you want to be. It’s the best place on earth.

Dan screams “NEXT TO LAST CALL” at 1:45.This is the time when the Stardust Room stops selling cocktails and beer and only serves shots and shooters.

Kamikazes, Purple Hooters, and Pinkies are ordered. Fireball shots seem to be the shots of the night, and dozens of those are ordered too.

You hear “LAST CALL” and instinctively know that it’s 1:55 A.M. You and Ryan and Tom finish your drinks, push several twenty dollar bills across the bar, shake hands with Don and Carl and about a dozen or so more people and are out the door with everyone else by 2:00 A.M.

[oldsmartskunk]

That's one hell of club you got there matey. The amount needed to join is tricky in it's contents. Real non-pussy cocktails do a pack a reasonable punch. Mix that with some well timed shots and you got yourself half an hour of bathroom brake. I would love to hear how can one accomplish this task. I bet everyone has his own methods.

[Dear Booze]

That's one hell of club you got there matey. The amount needed to join is tricky in it's contents. Real non-pussy cocktails do a pack a reasonable punch. Mix than with some well shots and you got yourself half an hour of bathroom brake. I would love to hear how can one accomplish this task. I bet everyone has his own methods.

Indeed!

Each person finds a method that works for them. This was mine:

Be sure to start after you've had a decent meal.

Be sure to sip on water throughout the entire contest.

The cocktails are the easy part. Start on those right at 12:00. Avoid anything with carbonation. Something like a greyhound is perfect. Pace those out for the whole two hours.

Don't drink the beer fast. Again, the carbonation will open your blood stream and you will be fucked. Save at least half the beer until after 1:20 or 1:30.

Don't start on the shots and shooters until about 1:30 and drink the last three of these between 1:50 and 2:00.

Bathroom breaks were fine. But Tom used to send someone in there with you to make sure you didn't puke.


Looking back on it, I realize that the Sunday Night Drinking club was Tom's marketing scheme. It was his way of driving customers into the bar on an otherwise slow shift.

[oettinger]

That's one hell of club you got there matey. The amount needed to join is tricky in it's contents. Real non-pussy cocktails do a pack a reasonable punch. Mix than with some well shots and you got yourself half an hour of bathroom brake. I would love to hear how can one accomplish this task. I bet everyone has his own methods.

Indeed!

Each person finds a method that works for them. This was mine:

Be sure to start after you've had a decent meal.

Be sure to sip on water throughout the entire contest.

The cocktails are the easy part. Start on those right at 12:00. Avoid anything with carbonation. Something like a greyhound is perfect. Pace those out for the whole two hours.

Don't drink the beer fast. Again, the carbonation will open your blood stream and you will be fucked. Save at least half the beer until after 1:20 or 1:30.

Don't start on the shots and shooters until about 1:30 and drink the last three of these between 1:50 and 2:00.

Bathroom breaks were fine. But Tom used to send someone in there with you to make sure you didn't puke.


Looking back on it, I realize that the Sunday Night Drinking club was Tom's marketing scheme. It was his way of driving customers into the bar on an otherwise slow shift.

For avoiding the carbon, too bad the beer doesn`t get stale in two hours. But that would be even worse than throwing up and trying another day.
I would sip on the beer from time to time. Cause a shitload of beer at the very end might get you the wrong way.
Thinking about it, it might not, when loaded a pincher is nothing really
Is pouring the shots into the other drinks considered cheating? I`d guess so.

[Dear Booze]

Is pouring the shots into the other drinks considered cheating? I`d guess so.

You know, Oett, that's a very good question. I'm not sure if anyone (before you) ever considered that. Not sure if it would make a difference, but a very good question.

[oettinger]

Not sure if it would make a difference

It would. Three shots into a pincher is like a dash of salt in your pasta water. I`d go on record that it would indeed be cheating.