Getting drunk the night before a holiday based around stuffing your face seems counterintuitive. How can you be expected to load up on turkey and mashed potatoes, browse the ads to plan your Black Friday shopping excursion, then pass out on the couch when you’re hungover?
For whatever reason, though, Thanksgiving Eve is big — maybe because there’s really no other time you’ll get to go barhopping on a Wednesday night. Or maybe just because it’s Buffalo, and we generally seem to use any excuse we can to get a party going (“Woo, it’s Thursday!”…”Woo, there’s a Sabres game!”…”Woo, it’s Dyngus Day!” — I’m not complaining).
As a newly-minted 21-year-old, this will be my first “official” Thanksgiving Eve, meaning my friends and I want to go somewhere we’re going to have a good time. The discussion of where to go, however, keeps leading back to Chippewa — which is a problem. They’re convinced that every other decent bar in the city couldn’t possibly have anyone in it tonight because, clearly, Chippewa is where the party’s at.
I love that Buffalo has Chippewa. It’s something fun to tell visitors about (it makes the city seem like a hip place, I guess?), and it would probably be entertaining if I ever felt like going dancing for a night. There are a couple decent places I enjoy (what up, Papaya! Tip Kym the bartender well — she’s awesome!) — but I outgrew my “Chippewa phase” before I even had one. You see, I’d rather not spend my night paying ridiculous cover charges and drink prices while being hit on by Long Island bros and avoiding puking high schoolers (side note: I like how this article makes it seem like this study about underage drinking is some huge discovery. I went to Nardin; I could have told you the results of this study a LONG time ago. I’m not being harsh. I’m being honest).
I know for sure I will begin my evening at Fuddrucker’s on Maple ($6 burgers, $1 drafts — can’t go wrong with that). After that? It’s all up in the air. So help me out. Give me suggestions. Where will you all be tonight? Please, dear readers, don’t let me die a slow death in the nightclub purgatory that is Pure and Quote.