"Wade, last I checked, no one agreed to your being the moral police (or etiquette ambassador)," reads a love letter posted online by "Hilton F. Jones." The reader took offense that I included "sucking face" on my list of bar etiquette "don'ts," which ran last week. "Somehow you and your cronies have decided to dole out this postmodern fascist tripe as rules to follow. … now THAT's uncomfortable," Jones' comment continues.
Fascist? Nope. Just offering a few pointers to my fellow imbibers. Of course, if I had the means to enforce these standards I would, with all the vigor of an iron-fisted dictator.
In case you missed it, last week's guidelines also included "Know when to say when," "Never hurl inside," "Tip a buck," "Don't bum more than one (cigarette)" and "Hey you," as in that's not a cool way to flag down the barkeep.
Like I mentioned in Part 1, the etiquette items are mostly culled from fouls I committed myself in bar land, a place I've spent more time — professionally and for pleasure — than most. Unfortunately, I'll probably break at least a couple of my own rules the next time one of my evil pals talks me into a wicked bender. In fact, you could view these items as counsel, or, if the idea of me acting as "etiquette ambassador" offends, simply as "Wade's personal goals for drinking out."
Keep it simple. When everybody is leaning over each other trying to get the bartender's attention like prohibition has just been reinstated, it's not the time to order a Ha Ha Tonka (vodka/amaretto/sloe gin/Southern Comfort/orange juice). When the bar's backed up, only order cocktails that include two parts: whiskey and water, rum and coke, vodka and tonic. You get the point. Even better: bottled beer.
"This seat taken?" Your buddy goes to take a leak and you save his seat. Fine. But if we're at MacDinton's on a Friday night and Buck asks to borrow my keys so he can drop a deuce in my apartment, his seat becomes fair game. Five minutes. That's the max on how long you can save a seat. The only exceptions are if it's your mom, life partner or a very attractive person you believe to have a reasonable chance of bedding later in the evening.
Pay your tab (in a timely fashion). "If you drink to forget, please pay before you drink," reads the sign at the Tiny Tap Tavern. The SoHo drinking institution near my apartment only accepts cash, and I typically pay after each round, so it's pretty difficult to walk out on your tab there — no matter how many PBRs you've downed. But I used to forget to get my tab about twice a month during my North Tampa days at O'Brien's Irish Pub on N. Dale Mabry. I'd give my credit card to the bartender and five hours and seven car bombs later would lurch out completely unaware that my tab was still open. Luckily, I got to know the O'Brien's staff fairly well, and they'd have my card waiting for me the next afternoon when I sheepishly returned to pay my debt — and leave a hefty tip. They were amiable about it, but I still felt like an ass, especially the weekend I forgot to pay on consecutive nights.
Umbrella drinks. They're only appropriate if you're within a stone's throw of a significant body of water, preferably the ocean and definitely not a retention pond like the one behind Green Iguana on Veterans. Actually, this rule applies to any beverage that includes more fruit in it than a lime wedge or is any shade other than clear, brown or black.
Scrapping. A couple years ago in Bradenton, at a downtown place called the Old Main Pub, I found myself in a three (them) on two (us) brawl. It worked out pretty well for me, that is, until the deadly third man appeared out of nowhere and slammed my nose with a cue ball. The next day, a weekday, I tried to explain that my two black eyes resulted from a vicious backyard football injury. My editors balked at the story, which I ended up having to tell about a thousand times before my face healed. Moral of the story? Fighting isn't worth it 99 percent of the time.
Don't rock the jukebox. I already devoted an entire column to jukebox etiquette, but it warrants another mention: Don't use the dastardly "play now" option and/or skip other people's songs. And play music that suits the setting. No Iron Maiden when it's 6 p.m. and there are six customers in the place, including an elderly couple that's trying to enjoy an early dinner.
This article appears in May 28 – Jun 3, 2008.