George

My first and last visit to George's took place on a cold January evening. It was an open bar event and my friend and I were excited to thrust ourselves into a night of sheer insanity. We got our hands stamped and went around the corner to get our evening started. The first thing to hit us was the blaring music echoing off the wooden walls and down the hallway by the coat check. We rounded the corner and came face to face with a massive sausage fest. This was a college bar and all these guys looked the same. Shaggy hair, a lot of flatbrim hats, t-shirts or flannel, and jeans. Private school lacrosse looking tools with fake IDs and no girls. "The fuck is this Tom?" I said flicking my hand their direction looking at the bar swamped end to end with idiots. "Yeah this is pretty rough. At least we'll get the girls when they do come." He said confidently. We jostled and pushed our way towards the front and ended up each getting about six drinks each by 11:00 PM despite the idiot bros displaying the worst bar acumen I've ever seen; before or since. And that's comparing it to political fundraisers where people are already kind of out of place to begin with. If you've ordered your drink at a crowded bar and have received it... don't just stand there you dult! Move so others can get a chance to wait 5 minutes for a drink. The 30 feet or so of lengthy bar was filled by guys taking wide shoulder stances jutting their elbows out to maximize their coverage thereby inconveniencing the maximum amount of people in the process. My favorites were the ignorant shit-for-brains leaning up against the bar with their back facing the bar fulling resting on the edge of the wooden lip. In this position they could actually get a view of all the people they were pissing off in the process. Navigating this place was even worse. You know how natural isles form within bars so you can move within a crowd? These guys had all the conviction of sudden stop lost tourists. A guy would walk like he was headed somewhere and then stop. Picture a guy spacing out in the middle of a busy sidewalk as if he was seeing the outdoors for the first time. After saying excuse me a few times to no avail I just started to gradually push them aside with a forearm. When they'd flip around angrily to say something of to the effect of "dude?" that's when I got to dropping some knowledge. "Are you lost? You realize you've chosen quite possibly the worst place in the bar to stop. I'll grab you a map from the bartender. Thanks Bro." "The bartender got your order right? Oh you're not ordering? -You're just spreading out as far as your can at the bar to take up room to burden every else around you that's trying to get a drink. I'll just slide in here- cheers faggot." "That's a good place for you. Right in on my foot and at the busiest intersection of the bar. I just farted breh, nah, stick around- that one was just for you." Never underestimate my ability to out-crazy, much less out-inconvenience others around me in the name of spiteful retribution. Pro-Tip: I discovered the best way to walk around in that place was to put others at risk of getting drinks poured on them. Having two over-filled drinks in each hand, I'd raise my arms above and forward. This way my drinks were hanging over the heads of those around me. Add a little geriatric style shaking of my wrists and you'd be surprised how quickly the Sea of Bro parted for me. It's funny how the prospect of getting lots of free alcohol on your head, shoulders, and shoes will do for someone who chooses to stand in my fucking way. I'd rather throw my dick in the river than give this place another 5 minutes of my life.