ah, superior, wisconsin, which knows no closing time on new year's eve. in something clearly born of jesus christ himself, you can drink until you are done with the bar, rather than until the bar is through with you. as you know, my greatest pet peeve in a world that smells like a kennel filled with peevery, is the stern and grunty "last call" of a husky sixth year business major.
last year we celebrated at builder's saloon, attached to the skeezy stargate, where a seven dollar cover charge bought us what was billed as the largest balloon drop in the city. and despite the weak mixes, there was a novelty in drinking ourselves sober. faces slack with sleep deprevation and drink, one eye closed, yawning looks across the table.
"are you going to have another?"
"yesh. are you?"
so it was animal instinct making the superior call again this year. like there was any question about it. then, while trying to come up with an actual destination, i was blank. bars were either too far off tower avenue, too nondiscript, or too stargate. and then, lightning.
"we don't have to go to superior," i realized.
more than half of the people involved in the celebration probably consider "last call" like the bell at the end of a school day; the extra hours like a boozy detention in a dark and smokey cell. and frankly, i don't really need to be at a bar until 4 or 5 a.m.
this change of thinking kind of blew my mind. so now we're going out in duluth. to a convenient location where, if pressed, we can walk home at the end of the night.
then i immediately bought myself a new pair of jeans from abercrombie just to keep myself centered. and, for dessert, i'm going to wear very impractical shoes.