Drinking A Lot: An Exposé
PHOTOS BY JON BIELECKI
Donnybrook’s own Colonel Hector Bravado started a web site called Denver Six Shooter, where writers go to six bars in one night and write an account of it – a six-martini kind of account. As you can imagine, we could fully get behind such an exercise in narrator unreliability – and our other blog friends, FuelFriends and Empty Reviews, participated vigorously in the forum. After all, this wasn’t just a pub crawl; it was a powerful conjoining of Denver’s bloggerati, all mushed up into a messy concoction of car bombs and kamikazis.
Donnybrook was going to write about it too, but then we got too drunk and forgot everything that happened. Luckily the Colonel was there to enforce some well-needed laws, and to attempt adorably to keep everything in check. The following is the beginnings of his account of the night; you can find the whole blog at DenverSixShooter.com.
Donnybrook and FuelFriends blatantly and explicitly break the Colonel’s rules
My drive down to Charlie Brown’s Bar & Grill had left me in a foul mood. Despite the fact that I was getting ready to bar-hop with the Donnybrook Writing Academy coterie, everything was rubbing me the wrong way — even the harmless doorknobs clustered around the piano in the corner singing show tunes. In a fury, I whipped up a new book of laws that will minimize the likelihood of your ever annoying me again.
And here’s a clip from the end of the night by Empty Reviews, who also wrote about the proceedings:
Donnybrook blatantly and explicitly breaks the Colonel’s rules
There was some definite weirdness going on in that place and it started to bug me out after awhile. The lights were all on, yet there was a multi-colored mirror ball rotating at the center of the restaurant. The manager was spinning some Persian dance music from his computer. A nice touch, but “Yah! Ah! Ya-ah-ah!” is not really what drunkards want to be listening to while they eat at 3:00am. In the back corner was another strange sight. A little upright piano surrounded by a couple of chairs and fake fireplace, fully ablaze. ‘Hmmm, what could make this situation more strange,’ I thought to myself. As if she could read my mind (or maybe I said it out loud), Angora Holly Polo showed me by sitting at the piano and playing the Jeopardy theme song.