The Golden Gopher

I love drinking just a little bit more than I like eating. I should do a drinking blog, but it would get boring really fast. Each post would go something like this: me at bar, me ordering single malt scotch, me making new friends and then me convincing those new friends that I'm o.k. to drive myself home. But, with eating, you gotta mix it up a little. Having said that, I love givin' props to a good drinking hole and tonight that hole is The Golden Gopher (417 W. Eighth Street).

This downtown hovel used to be a skanky dive bar but it has been tastefully redone by the folks who own Three of Clubs, Liquid Kitty and North. It's a cavernous space filled with a few tables, chairs, an outside patio area and a Ms. Pac Man game. It feels like an apocalyptic speakeasy. The best thing about this bar is that it has it's own liquor store so after you get sauced, you can grab a bottle or two for the road. They have Lagavulin behind the bar, so I was all set for night of high class boozin'. I was with some friends and we were intrigued by the interesting mix of people: retro punk rockers, artsy loft dwellers, gang banger types and guys in suits who probably left work for a quick drink and found themselves on an accidental bender. They'll probably show up at the office tomorrow in the same suit smelling of booze and strippers. I know.