Yesterday we brought you the top half of the Crawl lineup. We received word from reader Scott that the Blarney Stone is indeed strange and amazing in ways all its own. 11 Phil Collins songs. As a man who spent all of last year's crawl with Gary Wright's "Dream Weaver" in my head, I appreciate a bar that will bend to that kind of madness. So upgrade yesterday's unsure recommendation to a hearty "Fuck Yes."
Today we're covering the remainder of the day, including the unofficial extra innings bar, and the place for pizza and sleeping that I cannot find on a map after too many beers. Also, you're not really supposed to sleep there.
The Captain Morgan Club
Steve: Inexplicably, the bar connected to Wrigley has the cheapest drinks around, and are always accommodating. This is the one location that has an exemption from the bottles only rule, as the pitchers are enough to serve 4 and are something like $5.
John: A pitcher special in Wrigleyville? My word. But the thing that really comes to mind is the philosophical conversation that we had with reader and frequent Pub Crawl attendee Wolfie a couple of years ago there during the Second Annual:
Wolfie: The general public used to stand here, man. Now (knocks marble counter), marble counters.
Steve and John: (Knowing nods.)
Did I mention we were in the bathroom at the time?
Steve: It used to be a shithole and then they completely redid it, taking away its charm (a la The Irish Oak). Assuming a nice day, they now have a great rooftop with views of the park. Just don't go expecting any good beers - Harpoon is about as exotic as it gets.
John: Our troubles locking down the first inning bars are legendary. Penguins fans. Rain. Marauding Wendigos. But we also used to have a hell of a time managing the swing between Captain Morgan and Murphy's. The Dugout is an awesome frat party of a bar that, from what we can tell, is open roughly six hours a week. The dumb bastards who owned the eminently enjoyable Harry Caray's COULD NOT KEEP A HARRY CARAY'S OPEN ACROSS THE STREET FROM WRIGLEY FIELD. So that became a generic Wrigleyville douche bar, which failed and is now a second generic Wrigleyville douche bar.
But last year, Sports Corner was finished renovating, and we once again had its workmanlike charms to fall back on. Which is good, because we were seriously six seconds away from drinking beers out of the 7-11. And lord knows that I probably wouldn't be able to contain myself around the roller hot dogs and would end up with a hangover and Buffalo Chicken Roller food poisoning.
Steve: I met the Red Barron himself here and he revealed many slump-busting secrets of him and Gracie here. It is therefore to be considered sacred grounds.
John: Somewhere in my Gmail, there's a 40 second camera video of me singing Toto's seminal hit "Africa" in a Hot Doug's t-shirt at Murphy's on a summer evening, Old Style bottle clutched in my non-mic hand. I want to e-mail it back in time to my high school self with the subject line "Everything's Gonna Be AWESOME!!1!"
Steve: Ahh, the end of the line. If you've made it thus far, you will be rewarded with some leisurely drinking after a workmanlike performance for the past 2.5 hours. Shuffleboard and laughs will take over, and we will all express exacerbated relieve that we have finished.
John: The classic anchor bar of every Crawl that has been and will be. I'm gonna own some poor bastard in shuffleboard. I just hope that futurebastard has a fun preceding eight innings.
Steve: The most judgmental place on the crawl. Be sure to act ironic.
John: The creepy drunk uncle of the Pub Crawl, this cash-only unofficial after-innings Crawl bar serves Jeppson's Malort and has that "haunted preschool" look going for it in the front bar. There's a slightly roomier back where we ran into a dozen guys dressed like superheroes last year. Or maybe that was just a Malort-dream.
Steve: Much needed nourishment. After 6 hours of dranking, its time to include some grease. Classic thin crust and pitchers, thrusting you back into reality.
John: You know what I can't find when I've been hosting and participating in a Bar Crawl of this magnitude? Southport Avenue, where our beloved D'Agostino's allows us to regroup and lay a new base after the game has ended. Two years ago, in the middle of arguing with a Crawl attendee over which direction was ... West, maybe? ... I ran towards some incoming guy on a cycle, screaming "THIS GUY KNOWS! HE'S RIDING A BIKE!" Unfortunately, I'd terrified the geography out of the man, and he meekly informed us he had no fucking idea where Southport was. Eventually we found it. And then I did this:
- We'll have your pre-ordered shirts at the Crawl, waiting for you like a big hug from a VFW bartender. We are sorry to say that if you didn't order one before our deadline, you're outta luck.
- Order bottles, except in case of pitchers, which feed four drinkers an inning's worth at once.
- Bring cash. The key to success is being able to get the drink, watch the baseball, drink the drink, and be at the next bar post-haste.
- Don't be a drunk asshole. We haven't had one "that guy" yet, knock on wood. Don't be the first. If the choice is between drinking what you know is more than you can handle and just skipping it to possible ridicule, then just lay off. What, you're scared of our ridicule? What do we know? We're shiftless blogging drunkards.
- We'll have koozies for purchase at the Crawl. A mere $5. But I'm not carrying unlimited koozies, so please do get on that early if you want one.
- Go Cubs Go!