Barhopping is fun.

Alright - the plan for Friday night was to just stay home, have some drinks, and let the week drip off with all the contempt I had for it. The plan changed. I got a phone call asking if I wanted to get a drink somewhere and talking about how great of a night it was for a ride. I couldn't refuse. I'm currently a sucker for a Harley ride. It turned out being the perfect night for about 5 minutes, then it turned pretty cold but the beer that was already in me was keeping me pretty toasty warm. Here's what happened:

Bar #1 - nothing too exciting. They had Berry Weiss but for some reason didn't have it cold. Really? Are we in Ireland? Did I ask for a Guiness? Corona it was... I don't recall the conversation but all I do know is that I was threatened with a "whoop-ass stick". I probably would have been worried if I had any idea what the hell a whoop-ass stick was. I'm still waiting, but I think I can take it.

Bar #2 - this was a biker bar playing some serious r&b/hip-hop music. Seemed out of place but everyone could sing to "Strokin'" so I guess it belonged. I got carded. Lame. No Berry Weiss again so I asked for a Spotted Cow which they had on tap. Apparently I looked thirsty because she asked if I wanted a pitcher... We didn't plan on hanging out - being too close to where I grew up makes me nervous - so I went with the pint. We get out to the bike and the people parked next to us stumble to their car where their dog is waiting (do dogs ever need to go to the bar?) and tried for minutes to unlock the door. And they weren't using keys; the window was open wide enough for them to put their hand in and unlock it from there. We waited for them to pull out before us. I sure hope the dog got home save.

Bar #3 - and this is the fun(ny) one. We showed up and I was the only female in the bar besides the bartender. (Come to think of it - all the bartenders tonight were women. That rocks.) I feel obligated but not hopeful when I ask for Berry Weiss (dammit- isn't Leinenkugel's made in WI?) and end up with a Spotted Cow. We're hanging out, chatting for a while when one of the customers gets up to leave and shouts to his friend not to act like one of those African Americans (and yes he uses those words.). I look at my friend a little confused and asked "what does that mean?" Two seconds later, the same guy is walking past the window and shouts yelling about "ni****". Almost simultaneously my friend and I pick up our drinks to finish them and say "ready to go". THEN, the guy next to us - upon hearing the use of this ridiculous word says 'this is my kind of bar' and moves to sit closer to us. And someone else puts some money in the juke box and plays some crazy song whose only lyrics I can remember are "Fuck Off". These two events turn the moment from "let's get out of here" to "I can't get off this barstool - these people are completely insane and I have to sit and watch to see how it all plays out". For the next hour or so this guy talks to us, buys us drinks (which we almost got ourselves since I think the bartender was 'loving' her boyfriend in the back room), shows us his Green Bay Packers tattoo on his chest (bigger fan than I'll ever be. of anything.), takes a hit of "e" at the bar with his buddy, and generally tells us his life story. (He's going to read Sunday's paper and look for anyone looking for mason help and just show up.) When he asked us to play pool the novelty of the place had worn off so we took our leave.

The night ended with one of the bumpiest two minute rides of my life. On the bike that is. And I got home just in time to finish watching Sugarland at Summerfest - which was fantastic.

Moral of the story? Not only are people dumb, they are pretty weird too. But it all makes for a pretty fun night.