Last Call: Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Lucileís Stateside Bistro\r\n4700 Camp Bowie Blvd, FW. 817-738-4761.
Going for the Gold

OK, I like the chutzpah in this idea, but Iím not sure what to make of it.

Last week, a couple of dozen folks took part in the Second Annual 7th Street Pub Crawl. Didnít know there was one last year, but whatever. For $25 per person, participants received a commemorative t-shirt and some complimentary libations and grub at the organizersí house nearby. The group, known as the Fort Worth Drinking Team (see: chutzpah), started at the Bronx Zoo, finished in the Bermuda Triangle of J&Jís Hideaway, The Torch, and The Wreck Room, and in between hit Shamrock Pub, Fredís Texas Cafť, and the 7th Haven. (What? No Ten? No Black Dog Tavern? No Popís Safari Cigars and Fine Wine? No 6th Street Live?)

As I said, the crawl is cool for a few reasons, mainly for its healthy economic impact on the area. But thereís something weird about the whole deal. Maybe Iím thrown off by the competitive aspect implied by ďteam.Ē Loosely speaking, the word is defined by Merriam-Websterís as a set of two or more people working toward a shared goal in a competitive context. Clearly, the shared goal here is getting fucked up, and, as in a marathon, the competition is the reflection in the mirror. (Each team member is essentially competing against his or her tolerance for alcohol.)

Things begin to get fuzzy when we start talking about what the team is trying to win. Letís say itís the unassailable right to proclaim, ďMy friends and I can drink our asses off ó we have the commemorative t-shirts to prove it.Ē Great. More power to ya. But wait: There are a lot of people in town who can drink their asses off. Iíve seen some dudes shotgun several beers in a row. Iíve seen people go on monthly benders. (Modern Drunkard magazine defines a bender as three straight days of drinking, including a work day. Unless you call in sick, you havenít been on an official bender.) Where are their commemorative t-shirts?

Simply put, just because some fun folks came up with the name the Fort Worth Drinking Team does not mean theyíre the drinkingest denizens of 76107. To be the champs, you gotta out-perform another team, and if the professional drinkers of West Seventh (thereís a lot of íem) ever took a break from imbibing to form a club, the Fort Worth Drinking Team would be in trouble.

The potential for a drink-off scares me, though. While Iím all for competition, I donít know if the non-team members mentioned above need any reason to drink more. I hate to say this, but every night out on West Seventh for them is kinda like a pub crawl to oblivion. A commemorative t-shirt wouldnít do them any good; they all know where they were the night before. What they need is proof of what they did there, maybe a commemorative video that documents all of the buffoonery they committed for the love of Americaís pastime ó and I donít mean baseball.

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