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The bar was fucking hilarious. There were TV mounted all over the place that were showing "hi-light" clips of rowdy things that had happened in the bar on an endless loop. Here's one of my faves: a line of people laying their heads on the bar backwards while the bartender pours down the line directly into all of the mouths.
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Seasoned veterans at this point in the trip, we even managed to drink our raki without so much as a grimmace. Opa! Opa!
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With bellies full of steak and heads full of raki, we decided to hit the town in search of some girls (to frighten them with our BREAFFFF).
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The camera never lies. That's why the picture is blurred. But turn down a complimentary digestif in Greece and you might get your ass handed to you along with the check. Looks like we have some shots to drink. Oh well, here's to minimal liver damage.
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My mouth. . .
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...burning!
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tastes like. . .
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Which was followed, of course, by more raki. Being Americans (which are somewhat of a novelty to the locals as far as foreigners go) and adding that we had a member of our party that spoke fluent Greek, we were brought complimentary raki at the conclusion of pretty much every meal we ate. And because it's being offered gratis, it's considered an insult to not drink it. Fatty's face in this pic sums up how we were beginning to feel about having to do shots at the end of every meal.
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After another hour or so of (sobering) conversation, Kostas brought out a few trays of fresh fruit and several rounds of Raki, which is a bitter digestif made from the distillate of grape stems during wine production (not unlike the Italian grappa).
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We survived the raki. Mission accomplished.
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Thanks, Kostas!
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Before heading to the concert, we decided to break out the bottle of Brennivin we'd given Charlene and give it a try. Not heeding the advice of the woman who sold us the bottle who told us to "make sure we drank it out from the freezer."
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Turns out the woman wasn't kidding. The drink's "Black Death" moniker suddenly made a whole lot more sense. Hoo-ah.
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Thank you.
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As soon as we arrived at the new bar, we were greeted with seven shots of Jagermeister? (Me about the bartender: "Seth I thought you said this guy was your friend?") Can I get a capital "T" for "trouble?"
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Put them up and...
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...put them down. Hoo-ah. *Blech* *Gurgle* *Sputter* Check out Jagermeister suddenly transforming me into Dobby from Harry Potter. Jesus.
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Even though it's more expensive than it used to be back in the day, you really can't beat The Cherry Tavern "Special." A can of Tecate and a shot of tequilla for $4? Wha?
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Beatrice and me with shots (courtesy of Ed).
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Thursday night was Dennis Crowley's 27th Birthday, so I stopped by Ludlow bar to bestow best wishes upon the birthday boy. (This pic was actually taken from his account of the evening).
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So we celebrated by going to, um, karaoke. Karaoke again? I know, I know. I should probably talk to someone about this, huh?
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Tyler, Ericka, Grant and Brett.
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EmEm, me and Grant.
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*cough,* *sputter*
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EarlyTimes inhibits rational behavior almost as well as it strips paint from cars.