Over the break, I had the opportunity to travel by automobile across much of this great nation of ours. Let me tell you, this country is big. Furthermore, most of it is apparently empty space. I learned several obscure alcohol-related lessons on this trip. None of them will probably be of any use to you. However, if I can help just one reader, I’ll feel as though I’m doing my job.
There are roughly 50 people residing in western Texas. Ten of them work at the Dairy Queen in Johnson City. The irony is that the DQ is surrounded by cattle ranches, but trucks in its beef. Thirty people work at those cattle ranches, each with his or her own shotgun. The remaining 10 people work in the burgeoning Texas wine industry.
Actually, in fairness, Texas is the country’s ninth largest producer of wine. Allegedly, grapes were grown for wine production in Texas before they were grown in California. We picked up a bottle of Ste. Genevieve cabernet sauvignon from a truck stop for $6 (no joke) and it turned out to be delicious, if decanted long enough.
The trip provided an example of a poor, second-tier drinking town. Wichita is not impressive. Now, mind you, we only drank on the far east side of the city, at a place called The Port of Wichita. It wins the award for most novel bar design for this trip; half of a pirate ship jutting out of the back wall of the establishment. It might have been fun, if not for the lovely locals belting out crude and obnoxious karaoke renditions at the top of their lungs.
San Diego, on the other hand, is ideal for intoxication. The downtown area features the Gaslamp District, a cluster of exciting bars, restaurants, hotels, shopping, and expensive taxi cabs. The best choice is, appropriately named, the Gaslamp Tavern and Grill, on 5th Avenue. We were there the night of the Rose Bowl. The place was packed, split almost evenly between Texas and USC fans.
Picture this. The walls of the establishment, from waist height up to the ceiling, are retractable. When rolled up, the bartenders place stools along the sidewalk and serve from the bar, both inside and outside. You can sit on the sidewalk and drink beer. Legally. They also serve food, from a menu posted in chalk on the wall. You never know what will actually be available on any given night.
I’ll tell you, though, it was physically painful to fly back into the Albany airport and be met by snow and wind. It’s so much easier to deal with life without the ice and slush. Troy builds character, right?
