Not the Lord's day

Why did we stay out so late? It was a Tuesday for Christ’s sake.

Mike wanted to get out of his house last night. So we did. Like most 22-year olds that want to get out of their house at 10 p.m., he wanted to drink. Fine by me.

The two of us began our adventure with a nice, chilly walk from my mom’s apartment. We arrived at the less than classy Shortstop Lounge 20 minutes later. Though Mike grew up just a few blocks from the saloon, he had never been inside. It was my fifth or so time drinking in Forest Park and it was already my second time at said establishment.

The bar has a unique drink special, $3.50 mason jars of Millet Lite, PBR and MGD. The regulars seem to match the specials, cheap but rewarding. In the three and a half hours spent at the establishment, we saw a young fellow try to steal one (ONE!) bottle of opened beer, a middle-aged man play most of Gwen Stefani’s album “for the ladies” (there were 4 ladies in the entire place) and one of the ladies swear at a video poker machine like a sailor with a love for Dennis Leary.

Mike and I were not done at 2 a.m. We decided to continue our adventure and head northeast to Underbar.

Underbar is a 4 a.m. establishment. It’s not that cheap, but the clientele is somewhat “hip” and we were lucky to have a place to sit. Dan, a bartender at the Hungry Brain, the bar I work at, was there drinking with his pal Mike.

“Mike, this is my friend Mike.”
“Hey, Mike.”
“Mike plays bass.”
“I play treble.”

Clever.

Since no trip to Underbar is complete without a visit to Blue Light, Mike and I went next door to one of the sleaziest bars in the city. Blue Light is the kind of place that caters to people with wandering eyes, poor teeth and low standards. In our 30-minutes there, the bartender threatened to “put you guys in the corner,” heard Cher’s “Believe,” sang along to Cher’s “Believe,” petted a dog to the beat of Cher’s “Believe” and Mike called a friend at 3:49 a.m. asking if she wanted to pick up a “McBeer” with him.

Don’t piss on Underbar. Nothing good ever comes from pissing on Underbar. I’ll leave it at that.

I got home at 4:45 a.m. Mike had work at 9 a.m. in Des Plaines. It was a Tuesday night.