Why I Don't Go Out...Pub Crawls

Yeah, pub crawls occur year-round. You could be in your local, having the usual with some buddies, when the door bursts open and a cavalcade of morons hustles in. Led by the "crawl-master," (derivative, the Latin Crawlus Imperator, i.e., "boob with whistle"). There's typically 25 to 50 of them, all loud and obnoxious, but you'd assume they'd at least have worked out some kind of strategy for ordering drinks. No such stratagem exists.

Invariably, they crowd the bar, and after lenghty rumination in front of the taps (no doubt pondering which of the seldom ordered, horrid tasting micro brews is currently (French) en vogue), they order drinks ONE AT A TIME.

With that approach, it only takes the bartender(s) about an hour to properly serve the crawlers. Best of luck getting a drink yourself for a while. I'm starting to get the feeling that this story might be best as a diatribe on bar crawlers.

Several bartenders have informed me that crawler tips are poor at best. I observed this myself when a crawl invaded my usual Saturday hangout, and asked one girl why she and her friends disregarded tipping. "Well, on a pub crawl, you're only there for like one or two drinks, so you don't really need to tip. There's so many people it's not like the bartender will be all, 'Oh I know you, you didn't tip me, so, like, I'll give bad service,' you know?" Sorry to bother you and good luck in the grammar Olympics. (I'm also sorry your mother snorted so much heroin while carrying you.) Never mind that most bartenders depend on tips to earn a living.

Avoid the pub crawl crowd; buy a thirty pack, go to a dive no one would include on their itinerary, or just quit the booze. It's all better (and cheaper) than putting up with the loud, abrasive, stingy, pub crawl crowd.

Tom Donnelly