The Blind Tiger Alehouse is closing at the end of this month. Apparently, their landlord is booting them in exchange for a Marc Jacobs store.
This is most upsetting. Granted, it has been a good long while since I've been there... Back before the paparazzo-style of photo documentation we now implement during our evenings of debauchery. However, if I may bring us back in time to that night:
1. I drank 2 and a half S'muttonators (it's a barleywine, and I'm a dumbass.... ) and was very very unhappy upon arriving home.
2. Dan, our pirate friend, was in town from Seattle and stole a table from an unsuspecting group o' douches.
3. Some guy sidled up and asked me if I went to UNC, presumably because Toby was wearing a UNC sweatshirt, though he claimed I "looked familiar." It was weird.
4. The place was jam-packed (not a surprise, but it irked us, naturally) with slags and Banana Republic collared-shirt-wearing frat types. This made approaching the bar difficult. Lucky for me, when I went to collect aforementioned S'muttonators, one of the aforementioned frat types lifted me and threw me to the front of the scrum (this was upsetting for a few reasons: a) someone touching me b) some frat-boy type presuming familiarity enough to touch me uninvited c) I'm a big girl and by rights no one should really be able to pick me up and throw me).
As you can tell, many fine memories have been made there. I have waxed philosophical with the friendlier slags about how one is not a true woman until she can get in and out of a bar restroom in a minute or less. I have tippled many a fine beer there (though I resent having my choice of Boddington's once sneered at as "too obvious").
We still have Mug's, if ever a change of pace from the usual watering hole is required, or we need to show an out-of-towner that we are indeed CAPABLE of forgoing the usual watering hole. However, Blind Tiger was way easier to get to, if often pretty crowded. That corner window booth was great.
It's a sad day. Perhaps we consider a farewell trip? They have free brunch on Saturdays and Sundays...
4 comments:
well, we tarheels are a clever bunch. girls always sleep with men who tell them they look familiar. he should have said "did we ever..." and make that fist gesture that billy crystal does in when harry met sally.
that said, can it be called gentrification when it happens in the village? it's white on white crime, that's what it is.
i can't remember much of that night, but you have to be fair to yourself - i also had that much s'muttenator, and was feeling pretty bad during that cab ride home. it even made andy sprint down the street and up six flights of stairs. well, five really. we found him passed out just before the sixth floor.
Fair enough, Tobs. It's not quite the gentrification offense as other neighborhoods around the city. However, a Marc Jacobs and luxury apartments for a beer bar? That sorta counts, I think.
I had forgotten about Andy's Ironman sprint up the stairs. Good times. Good times.
That's weird. I guess I'm sad. I mean I loved their beer, even if I hate their clientele. I did drunkenly harass some dude from Brooklyn for wearing a Nats hat and being a Yankees fan in line for the bathroom there.
I'm confused Sheena, you don't like it when strange frat boys throw you? Sometimes I feel like I don't even know you anymore.
I guess we should go one more time and say goodbye.
Post a Comment