United Nations of Beer

Get on the Bus

by Gary
(Washington)

Get on the Bus

My buddy Drew, his friend Annie and I were on a mission. Drew had just turned 21 and we were memorializing the milestone by having a drink in 21 bars. We were making good progress on an alcoholic's nightmare block in downtown Seattle, but with 11 bars to go, we were facing the ordeal of walking to another area.

Drew was well prepared, having procured a pocket full of maps and marked target bars before we set out. Unfortunately, he had not anticipated the difficulty of reading the maps in the dark while quite thoroughly smashed. He was struggling with his impaired sense of direction when I spotted a group of young men, gathered around a blue school bus.

As boring as it is to be around drunken people when you are sober, a flock of inebriates joking and laughing is irresistible when you have a snoot full. I grabbed my drinking buddies and, as a group, we staggered towards the bus.

When we got there, a fellow named Bob was having a hard time negotiating the narrow doorway. Ever the helpful one, I applied a shoulder to his buttocks and hoisted him through. The shove landed him into a round of cheers from his fellows. While he was being guided to a seat, my group consulted on the advisability of joining these revelers. Given the choice of sitting on a bus that was clearly headed towards more besotted fun and trying to find out own way on foot, we picked the bus.

There was a single open seat in the middle of the bus and we crammed into like we did in the third grade, and joined in to the chorus of In Heaven There is no Beer. When the verse came around, I belted out a particularly blue verse I learned from a sailor in Annapolis. The boys laughed hardily and made it almost half way through the chorus when they realized that no one knew us.


"Where did you come from?" asked Bob. The question was not unfriendly, encouraging us to reply honestly that we were stowaways. "Hey, Bob!" shouted the Bob in front of us, "These guys crashed your bachelor party!" Bob took the news in stride and welcomed us to the bus.

"This is a bachelor party?" asked Annie, plunging the bus into silence for a moment. It took a moment for the realization that Annie was the only girl on a school bus full of drunks to penetrate my vodka marinated brain.

"Hi, I'm Bob," said at least three guys trying to out gentleman each other. I will never argue against the premise that all men are pigs, but that night there was camaraderie in the air and, while Annie got plenty of attention, it was all honorable.

The bus was headed to a bar called Slammers after the tequila drink they were famous for. The Bobs were amused enough at us that they bought us a round and officially invited us to continue the tour with them.

I don't think we ever made it to 21 bars. Towards the end of the evening, the bus came close enough to the hotel room we had taken to avoid drinking and driving that I voted to get off the bus. Drew agreed that the night was a success and it was time to have a quick shot from the minibar and pass out.

Annie was amazing. She was getting her second wind and was assured by Bob that there were still a few bars on the agenda, so she stayed with the bus. It was 24 hours later that we were in any condition to worry about her and we were quite pleased to hear that she made it home safe and sound.

I don't know how the wedding went, but I owe Bob a big thanks and wish him a happy life.