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![]() The Drinking Life
"Alcohol is probably one of the greatest things to arrive upon the
earth," Charles Bukowski once said. Of course, in Bukowski fashion he
added, "alongside of me."
But he was on to something. The drinking life has us by the horns,
and it ain't easy to escape--nor do we all want to. Every night of the
week we pour in and out of our favorite holes--our reasons are all
different, the methods all the same. It's a human desire, visceral
need.
A coping mechanism, a dangerous catalyst of courage. You banned it. We
did it anyway. You can't take it away from us. Prohibition didn't
work.
The smell of the bar. My father, after a long day of putting on
roofs, took me to our neighborhood Chicago bar to play darts, a
6-year-old surrounded by these dirt-fingered men. The ale, the nuts,
the
overwhelming cigarette smoke. I never lost that smell. Ten years later
my friends and I, snotty, cocky teenagers out looking for trouble,
stumbled into another neighborhood joint--the one with no name, just
the
Old Style sign--asking the patrons if they wanted to put some money on
a
foosball game. They stared hard at our youth. The smell was there. The
stench of hard years. "You don't even know, kid," their faces told
us.
We were out the door. I'll never forget it.
The following is our ode to the night--and morning--of the drinking
lifers. Long live Benedict's. Children on the loose. Sip all day and
all
night. Tip your doorman. Find love. Lose it.
These are the lessons we learn from the Chicago days of wine and
roses.
Closing
Time
One Snowy
Day
ID,
Please!
Final
Call
Empire of
the Senseless
Children
Afraid of the Night
My
Tai's
Also by Tom Lynch And They Feel Fine
Tip of the Week
Soundcheck
Bands of Brothers
What Are You, Chicken?
Tip of the Week
Tip of the Week
Tip of the Week
Crowned Kings
Tip of the Week
Tip of the Week
Soundcheck
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