The Bar Belle

Aug 8, 2006 at 6:58 pm
Bar Belle
Bar Belle
Messages from the bottle
The first thing my creative writing professor told me was to write what you know. As a journalist, and bartender, I know a little bit about a lot of things. But what I do know more about is Louisville nightlife — I spend my fair share of time in this city’s fine establishments, on any given weekend night (Thursday is the weekend, right?). I’ve tended bar at R Place Pub in Lyndon for as long as I’ve worked at LEO — nearly seven years now — and have seen the best and worst of the business from both sides of the bar. I’ve cut off patrons and I’ve been cut off (only twice, for the record). I can chug beer and shoot shots with the best of ’em. I cut my teeth among Ohio University’s 23 taverns (fast fact: OU always makes The Princeton Review’s Top 10 Party School list; this year we were No. 2), and one of my proudest attributes is my level of tolerance.
Now my bosses have finally figured this out, and they’ve asked me to take on a new regular column, devoted to the Louisville bar scene. Best happy hours, strongest drinks, weirdest regulars, worst bathrooms — all of it. I will write what I know, but I also need tips and suggestions about the places/people/drinks I should check out. No part of town is off limits. I do live in the Highlands and tend to stay close to home for obvious reasons, but that doesn’t mean I can’t start the night off some faraway land, like, say, Dixie Highway or Clarksville.

Weasel Walk X is a sousing success
Another Weasel Walk (July 29) under the belt, another XL T-shirt I’ll never wear. My group finished in just under two hours — unfortunately, only a few of us played by the rules — consuming one drink at each and every St. Matthews establishment. This year Dutch’s Tavern opted out of the party, but we didn’t let ’em get away that easily — we quickly downed a shot of Jager there on the journey from BW3’s to BBC. But as soon as we came back around Shelbyville Road on the way to Saints, people were already turning their cards in for T-shirts. That means the fools simply ran from bar to bar getting their cards hole-punched for a stupid T-shirt that is five sizes too big. I would’ve gladly given them my T-shirt if they would’ve kindly stayed outta the way. Lightweights!

Know about a great happy hour? Have a favorite bar? Favorite drink? Spill your secrets to Sara at [email protected]