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Instead, we chatted with Sarah, our terrific server, who told us that a couple of guys who designed the MAX recently came in wasted. Apparently they, too, were testing out the bus line. "I tell everyone it's our beer bus," she said. Excellent choice of words -- that's definitely up there with ass transit, we thought.
As one of the tennis guys walked out, he, too, had some good words of advice. "Don't drink too much," he said with an Australian accent. "Just one at a time."
8:33ish: We were going to hit the Levee but, being bus neophytes (and slightly drunk), we didn't realize we had to pull the request-stop cord, and we blew on by. We ventured on to Harling's (39th and Main), where Australian Guy's advice was soon broken by RA Erik: "Hey, is this my beer, too?"
Much like the first two bars, Harling's was dead, but that also worked to our advantage. As the NR switched to $2 wells, she got the top score on Ms. Pac-Man. Until that was topped by the doublefisting RA Erik.
10ish: We kept going northward to Bar Natasha, which was the first lively place on our circuit. After paying the $2 cover, we made a beeline for the bar, where we ordered our favorite drink there: the Infrusion, which is basically the bar's fruit-infused vodka. Light pink in color (we renamed it the Pink Triangle), served in a martini glass and lethal in its candy-like goodness (and also pricey at $10), we quickly downed a couple of those.
Sitting at the bar was a person of interest: a cross-dresser in a long, curly blond wig, flashing earrings, a pink-and-black-striped top (that revealed a lot of cleavage) and a pink-and-black-paneled cheerleader skirt. The NR wanted to interview her but was politely rebuffed: "I read your column. That's why I don't want to be interviewed," she said. Fair enough. Our new friend was awesome, though; she was telling the NR a scandalicious story involving her wife and girlfriend traveling together. Just then, at a little after 11 p.m., RA Kelly informed us that the last bus would soon be leaving the Crossroads, so we had to flee the bar to make it aboard the nearly empty bus.
11:20ish: We decided to skip the rest of the downtown stops and headed directly to Harry's Country Club, the end bar of the night. As we were walking to the bar, we noticed two guys in '70s garb strutting along in front of us, so the NR ran up to find out their story.
Chris, 26 and Gaston, 24, were about to go into a building for a disco-themed birthday party. They were going to invite us up -- until our growing party of people caught up with us. This interesting tableau was completed when a guy dressed in a black leather vest, an X-shaped chest strap and a biker hat appeared in the doorway.
Before we left, we snapped a picture of Chris and Gaston. "Oh my God, I look so Asian in this!" Gaston said. (Yeah, we have that problem, too.) The fun didn't stop there, though. Later on in the night, when we were sitting on the patio, we spotted a guy in tight short shorts run across the parking lot. We jumped up from the picnic bench and ran after him.
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