Numbers 3, 4 and 5

#3 – Bar Italia, Central West End

#4 – Mia Rosa, The Grove

#5 – Dog Prairie Tavern, St. Paul, MO

I should have just written about these 3 bars sooner and then I wouldn’t have to tax my stupid brain. I think Bar Italia was on Monday, 10/27. Mia Rosa was last Friday or Saturday night, 11/1 or 11/2, and the Dog Prairie Tavern was earlier this week, on Sunday the 2nd.

Bar Italia ended up on the list because that is where Meredith’s restaurant was holding their Halloween party. I dressed up as the kind of person who would never want to voluntarily attend a party at Bar Italia. Actually, although I am sure I will return there before this year is up, I could live quite comfortably without ever really visiting the Central West End. I don’t make enough money, I don’t have pricey enough clothing, I don’t go tanning, and I am not ambiguous about my sexuality. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. That part of town just isn’t my scene. There was a time in my life when I would try to blend in to those kinds of surroundings; but the blend was really never successful and the music they play in those places sucks anyway. (I was in Mangia on a random night last week and they were playing album cuts from Outkast’s ATLiens. The last time I had been to the CWE was to go to a club named Mandarin where the music was 20 seconds of a Notorious BIG song, poorly faded into 20 seconds of some awful radio bullshit, poorly blended into 20 seconds of an unintentionally hilarious dance remix of Aerosmith. But I digress…)

There’s one thing that is both wonderful and not about Halloween and that is that many (most?) girls use it as an excuse to dress like a tramp. No matter what the costume is, it’s the sexy version of the costume. I’m not just a nurse, I’m a naughty nurse. I’m not just an alligator, I’m a sexy alligator. At this party, there was a sexy mariachi/cantina/Mexican girl, a sexy police lady, a sexy Harry Potter student, sexy military personnell, and at least 17 sexy cats.

Anyway, I mostly stayed out of the way. Then I had to take a phone call and spent 45 minutes in a quieter room off the dance floor area.

Mia Rosa could be considered a cop out, I suppose, since I work there and all. But I actually rarely drink there. On busy nights, we are entitled to a shift drink and I was known to stick around a month ago or so. But honestly, our beer selection sucks and I’m usually eager to get home and do nothing or meet up with friends and a far more entertaining venue. Last weekend, though, after a rough night and waiting for my ride, I did sit at the bar and sip a skunky beer. It was fine. Come visit the place sometime, jerks!

The Dog Prairie Tavern almost qualifies as a road trip bar. St. Paul, Missouri is a tiny community nestled between the most rural outskirts of O’Fallon and the middle of fucking nowhere. My sister, my mother, my brother, his wife, their son and I were there to attend a benefit for the family of my step-uncle, who had recently passed away from lung cancer. I was semi-close to the family in my childhood and adolescence, but had seen them perhaps twice in the last ten years. So it was a sad occasion, but only vaguely so. I saw and spoke to a few people I hadn’t for many years, saw a couple more who I wish I still hadn’t seen, and got to hang out with my family, so it was ok. I did my job as uncle, whipping my toddler nephew into a frenzy just in time for his parents to have to restrain him in the car for what I am sure was a long ride home. I talked to a girl whose boobs I touched when we were both around thirteen. And despite the fact that we were in a place where Bud Light surged through the bloodstream of anyone who ever set foot inside the doors, I managed to find a couple of O’Fallon Wheat beers hiding in the deepest regions of the cooler.

So I needed to visit an average of 8 bars a month and I managed only five in the first few weeks. Some stepping up will need to occur.