The Pub Guy: The foolish and hungry
Disclaimer: The Pub Guy loves drinking so much, he would
probably massage Marlon Brando's buttocks for half a beer. It's sad, but
he thought you should know.
The pub: The Brass Door
Location: 186 King St.
On tap: An assortment of golden earthly delights from
both home and abroad, including Caffrey's, Guinness, Labatt 50, Alexander
Keith's, Labatt Blue, Carlsberg, Stella Artois and Magner's Cider.
The décor: The Brass Door is a fine Irish pub and its
image fits the overall package a lot of wood, dim lighting and
low ceilings create a warm and cozy pub-faring experience. The hidden
booth to the right of the dart board, which is cut off from the rest of
the establishment, is a prime location for shenanigans and tom-foolery.
Imagine telling your future child where he/she was conceived when
you and your spouse skanked it up one night and banged as strangers on
a cushiony bed of beer, grease and ashes? Now that's romance.
Bathroom graffiti: This true poetry of our time reveals
much about the character of a man. For example, it's a fair summation
that the guy who wrote "Here's to fucking hot chicks" on The
Brass Door stall isn't fucking many freakin' hot chicks. Same with the
Shakespeare who wrote "Here's to eating pussy for breakfast, lunch
and dinner." The word starving comes to mind.
Entertainment: Jim McGinley, a Scottish folksinger who
plays on Saturday nights, leads a fine assortment of weekly entertainment.
The crowd: A good mix old and young, foolish (see
"bathroom graffiti") and intelligent.
Pub Guy's judgement: A little luck of the Irish in every
pint, what more could you want?