That horrible screeching sound you probably heard about two weeks ago was the Fort’s party scene coming to a halt. Your boy had strep and could barely get out of bed. When I finally started feeling a little better, I realized that I had fallen unforgivably out of shape (drinking shape).
My trainers (bartenders) recommended that I get back on that wobbly horse slowly. So last weekend, I commenced my rehabilitation (dehabilitation) at La Playa Maya on the West Side, where I fueled up on cowboy enchiladas and a few waters (micheledas).
Properly invigorated, I went to one of my favorite gyms (Shamrock Pub), where the trainers hold me to a high standard – essentially, they expect me to pump (drink) a lot of weight (ounces of Miller Lite) every time I show up. I managed to do a couple (10) without even breaking a sweat. Actually, I kind of got a little runner’s high (buzz) going.
You know the old saying, “Don’t bite off more than you can chew”? Well, I was living 80-proof to the contrary. I popped into my favorite Monday-night spa (Sarah’s Place), where the inspirational New Age music (karaoke) never fails to pump me up for some sit-ups (shots), dips (beers), and cardio (cigarettes). And some singing (singing). Even though my hacking cough was begging me not to, I put my name in the hat, got called up, grabbed the mic, and delivered a spellbinding rendition of Wham!’s “Careless Whisper.” The place went nuts (a couple of people clapped).
Even the Stock Show types who earlier had spun some solid-gold, old-school C&W approved (didn’t look at me funny). And the next day …
Let’s *cough* not talk about *cough* that, shall we? – Eric Griffey
BYOB and B(owl) at Don Carter
I won’t go so far to say that Cityview is totally bereft of decent drinking spots, but it is tough to find a mellow hangout over yonder without getting drilled in the brain by some DJ cross-fading Toby Keith into Kanye West. If you’re south of I-20 and stuck on Bryant Irvin, heaven help you if you’re craving a cocktail. Thankfully, though, there’s Don Carter Lanes.
A couple of Valentine’s Days ago, the bowling alley lost its liquor license and went BYOB. The other day, I asked the manager if that meant I had to tote in my 40 of Steel Reserve under my coat, but he assured me that the only limit was my imagination. “Six-pack, cooler – hell, bring a keg if you want.” And you Big Lebowski fans can chill. White Russians are A-OK, too. – Steve Steward
Contact Last Call at lastcall@fwweekly.com.
Don Carter Lanes at Cityview
6601 Oakmont Blvd, FW.
817-346-0444
