So the Moxster was feelin the itch to be social last night after work, but alas none of my compadres were available to revel in happy hour. So what does one with the moniker of "Moxie" do? Drink by herself! Initially, I was going to head over to the Corner Alley on Euclid Ave. I have been wanting to visit that place, but my fear of West 6th chas, blondes, and Young Republicans kept me away. Last night was going to be my night to step outside my comfort zone!
However, upon walking, I stumbled onto Hamilton's Bar at the P-Square. Moxie sometimes means lazy because I went in and plopped down. Now this wasn't my first time there, but it had been so long since my last visit, it was like new again. I was greeted with the stares of four men (one was the bartender) who wondered why someone with a vagina - and ALONE no less - was patronizing the establishment. They were chatting about New Orleans as the best 80s new wave and dance (mixed special by the bartender) piped through the speakers. I read my Scene mag (where was the Free Times?), and even played some "Name This Tune" with another boozer and the bartender. I guessed Talking Heads and was right! I even learned about the philosophical greatness of Fischerspooner. Indeed, you don't have to emerge.
The best part: I enjoyed two world-class martinis for ELEVEN DOLLARS. yes. A Strawberry Blonde (regular price) and some blueberry raspberry concoction that was on special and made with REAL blueberries. I was quite buzzed after just two drinks and bid adieu. I was in a hurry to: 1) eat; 2) watch Medium on NBC; and 3) escape the unfortunate cigarette smoke.
I'm now comitted to drinking at Hamiltons and I'm not afraid of the consqeuences that come with drinking alone.
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