Bar Supplement 2006 - The Gauntlet

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B12 SEPTEMBER 07.06 GAUNTLET DRINKING SUPPLEMENT SEVENTEENTH AVENUE There have always been a number of bars on 17th Avenue, but the Flame’s Stanley Cup run in 2004 turned it into the world-renowned Red Mile. Although just heading out on a random Wednesday evening doesn’t quite duplicate the experience, there can still be plenty of debauchery if you are willing to create it yourself. The walk from the C-Train is a little frustrating when you’re parched—10 blocks can seem like the Sahara—but you can proudly say there won’t be any driving later on. There is at least a couple kilometres of prime bar-hopping to do right on 17th, but, as you’ll fi nd below, some treasures lay just off the beaten path. While we managed to hit fi ve pubs on our crawl, we were just nibbling on the tit of the iceberg. Did I say tit, I meant tip. wingman and a Just me They’ve also got a decently spacious patio for soaking in the sun’s dying rays before winter hits. The location is unfortunately not exactly in the heart of the action. Watchman’s is pretty much the first bar you will hit when you stroll down 17th from the west. It was, however, agoodstartingpointtoputawing Watchman’s Pub 1109 17 Ave SW This was another crawl that began with a couple of cold ones at home with the roommate and a bike ride to the first location. This time it was Watchman’s Pub and it was wing night. The two of us sat down in the very busy bar and ordered a couple of pints and three orders of Double trouble Michelangelo’s 1401 11 St SW With some cold beer and tasty wings in our bellies, our team of two set off for our next destination: Michelangelo’s. Albeit less frequented by the 17th crowd, this bar still manages to be packed more often than not. It is admittedly towards the west end of the 17th Avenue strip and a few blocks north, but hot damn do they have some sweet specials. We managed to secure ourselves a corner booth with a massive chest as a table—and I don’t mean server-at- Cowboys massive chest, I mean oldschool, wonder-what’s-inside kind of wings to k patiently for our friends. The only problem being we have no friends. The two of us enjoyed our happyhour-priced beers—the hour of joy runs until 7:30 p.m. allowing the dinner crowd to indulge—and 15-cent wings. Watchman’s has the feel of a typical sports bar. There are too many televisions, dim lighting and a lot of hungry and thirsty sports fans. that we had stumbled in on the night when hi-balls are on special. Four dollars apiece for doubles didn’t set us back too much considering the strength of the drinks. Interestingly enough, drinks this cheap aren’t a rarity at Michelangelo’s. They’ve also got nights dedicated to $3 bottles of imported beer (from 38 countries), $3 pints of Trad and Grasshopper, 25-cent mussels and your typical 15-cent wings. The atmosphere is super cool too, with a dark interior and barely enough room for all the thirsty patrons that swing by. Anyway, being bitter about the lack of other people in our group, our duo made very fast work of three and no signs of any others showing up at the Watchman’s, it was time for us to hit the road. We fought to the death (read: bickered like a married couple) over who would eat the last wing, ended up splitting it, and finished off our pints. But before heading east, we had a detour. Sean Nyilassy double gin and tonics and two double Caesars, respectively. As the six shots of booze settled into my system, my plan started to work. My disappointment from being on a supposed pub crawl with only one other dude was rapidly fading and my desire to just get hammered was beginning to rear its ugly, familiar head. On that note, our allotted hour was over and it was time to head to the next bar. On the way, it was also time to go harass our comrade working on 17th and encourage him and his lady friend to join us. The mission was a success and our party’s population doubled for the next stop on our tour. Sean Nyilassy Hot dog! We have a weiner Tubby Dog 103 1022 17 Ave SW It was with a smile on my face that I locked up shop for the last time at my part-time summer job and walked the short block down 17th to join the tiny, but spirited, twoman pub crawl in progress. My after-work thirst was compounded by some after-work hunger, making Tubby Dog an ideal locale for our planned rendezvous. Offering a selection of whackedout dogs with ingredients ranging from Cap’n Crunch cereal to crushed potato chips to ginger and wasabi (though it’s probably not a good idea to mix them all on the same dog), Tubby Dog has something to satisfy any hunger. These dogs will do the trick whether after a night of bar hoppin’ (they’re open extra late on Friday and Saturday) or just a lazy afternoon of window-shopping on 17th. Add an order of Tubby’s uniquely battered T-rings or a one dollar pickled egg and it’s clear that what the menu lacks in nutritional value it more than makes up for in unapologetic (and often messy) deliciousness. Tubby Dog also offers veggie dogs for those not interested in tubes of ground up animal bits and Ukrainian sausage for those who can’t get enough. Your doctor would probably tell you not to eat here everyday, but what the hell does he know anyway The dogs are an affordable feed, in the $5–7 range. The beer is pretty cheap too—especially if you pick up one of the oversized imports. All things considered, the charm of Tubby Dog comes primarily from the interior decoration, complete with ketchup-red and mustard-orange ’60s-fast-food-joint tables and benches. The place fronts on 17th and opens a street-side patio when weather permits. There’s also a jukebox stacked with music to make an indie fanboy cream his tight jeans, but the best part is the wall projection of old cartoons at the back. There’s nothing quite like watching the Amazing Spiderman wrap up case after case (and criminal after criminal) with his trademark note to police, mouth full of half-chewed bits of bacon, beef and sauerkraut, Newcastle in hand. The staff are friendly and make the place that much more appealing, especially on one of the movie theme nights or dj parties. Though Tubby Dog is probably not the best place to kill three or four hours, it is well worth a stop during any 17th Ave debauchery, if only to refuel on pork and beef tubes and take a break from the smoky bar scene—which is exactly what our small band needed before moving on to more serious stops. Chris Beauchamp
GAUNTLET DRINKING SUPPLEMENT SEPTEMBER 07.06 B13 Partying like sailors Ship and Anchor Pub 534 17 Ave SW As we left the crazy land of Spiderman and the most excessively topped hot dogs ever, we went to a familiar spot for many students: The Ship and Anchor. Right in the heart of 17th, this is one of a select few pubs that sees line-ups on certain evenings. We luckily didn’t have to line up and quickly found ourselves staring at a massive row of taps trying to decide what draft to slam first. For me, being as classy as I am, the choice was simple; what’s cheapest on the menu Having been to the Ship before, I knew it was agd at $4.75 a pint—the choice of the rich and famous. It is pretty rare to find this alluring lager on tap, making the Ship a gem in Calgary. They’ve also got a huge selection of other beers for a slightly higher premium. Along with a prime location and great beer selection, the Ship offers a fairly large seating area and dual patios flanking the main doorway. However, show up early as the Ship gets full every night of the week. For our purposes, the Ship allowed us to meet up with a couple more friends and got some more booze sloshing around the stomach. While the bulk of the alleged pals we met up with at the Ship decided against continuing on our crawl, our group of four became one stronger for our fifth and final stop of the eve. For me the night gets a little hazy after this Just this old guitar... and an empty bottle of booze A Bar Named Sue 1410 4 St SW You’d think a city known affectionately as “Cow Town” would have honky tonks and saloons on every street corner, two-steppin’ barn dances in every neighbourhood and live country music in more places than any city north of Texas. Unfortunately, the closest Calgary comes to being the Nashville of the North is a ten-day, overpriced, gongshow shit-fest we call the Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth, and rational observers call a ten-day, overpriced, gong-show shit-fest. Luckily for all involved, the Stampede only lasts a fortnight. Plenty of time for trendy local bars to slap up some hastily crafted corral fencing around their patios and book acts like Shania Twin and the dregs of the cmt world. Plenty of time, too, for downtown yuppies to don brand new Stetsons and pretend they’re real cowboys. Luckily for Calgarians who hate the ten-day sham that has more to do with turning our city into a tourist trap than celebrating real cowboy culture, there’s a year-round venue that honours the country music of a simpler time, and lucky for our rag-tag team of pub crawlers, it was at the Sue that we decided to end our adventure. A Bar Named Sue has been kicking it for about two years now, and has grown from a bar that may have found itself limited by the fact that it was geared around a Johnny Cash novelty song—a bar trapped in its own cliché—to an establishment that offers the type of honesty and integrity that gave Cash his own staying power. With live music every night, the cozy Sue has established a loyal, and ridiculously friendly, group of regulars. It is probably the only place in the city where your bartenders and service staff frequently swap roles with the musicians as each tries a hand at the others’ craft. The role-switch is damned entertaining, not just because the bartenders are talented musicians, but because the change breaks down the barriers between performer and friend, patron and participant. It’s this attitude that gives the Sue its unique vibe. The decor is authentic country kitsch, complete with a model train performing unending laps around the ceiling. The patio has the corral fencing up year-round, and on most nights the small stage is as tightly-packed with rotating musicians as the rest of the place is with cheerful drinkers. A couple rounds of the house’s Sue Shooters—Fireball Whiskey and Jack Daniels—virtually wiped out any detailed memory of speaking to Brad, the Sue’s owner, but his friendliness and casual attitude stick out as a testament to his fine waterin’ hole. The Sue was the perfect spot for us to wrap things up, even if this reporter ended up losing his inhibitions on the dance fl o o r,h i sm o n e yo nt h eb e e ra n d his notes on the way home. Then again, maybe it is the perfect spot exactly for those reasons. Either way, it beats the hell out of going to the Stampede. Chris Beauchamp
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Bar Supplement 2006 - The Gauntlet

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