It’s a crusade. I’ve long been a crusader. But it isn’t just
a crusade – it’s the big divide between my two worlds. I have always been the awkward
one. I’ve always been the beer enthusiast since before I could legally drink.
Yet, I’ve also always been the party boy who loves a good, big night out more
than most. I was the student who didn’t want the “pound-a-pint” Carling in the
student bars. I was the student who ignored the student drinks offers in clubs when
he spotted Goose Island available for 4 times the price. I was the student who
started nights out in Mr. Foley’s rather than the SU. But still, I was the
student who was there for EVERY night out and had stories to tell and forgotten
memories to recall.
I’ve written about my conflicts before. My love for having a
good time without worrying about the hops was written about Blackpool and the Ale Trail. My love for football as well as good beer was written (poorly looking back) at the time of Euro 2012. So last week I went on a Stag Do in
Leeds – my second love and hopefully future home – and I was annoyed by the “craft”
scene opinions.
A brief synopsis is that we’d made conscious decisions
before getting to Leeds about how the day would pan out. Firstly, you can’t
have a stag/hen party without dressing the offending fiancé up. Secondly, we’d
sacrifice this tradition in the evening, so we didn’t have bouncer problems, by
just dressing them for the afternoon. Thirdly, since we were going to such a
great drinking city, we’d visit the better beer bars before tea before
succumbing to ‘anywhere that would except a large group of drunken lads’ later
on.
So we travelled, arriving in Leeds just after 11, all
dressed smartly apart from our felonious stag. After a brief Wetherspoons
breakfast, a few of us decided we’d all stop off at a couple of those good beer
bars whilst still sober. The day had just gone noon. “Let’s take them to
Friends of Ham” I offered, thinking about just how much I love the place and
that it may be quiet having just opened its doors. Some were apprehensive about
the name, but most were enthused by the description. And so we made our way
over. We arrived at an empty looking Friends of Ham at 12:03. At this stage,
there are 9 lads. 8 are dressed appropriately. 1 is dressed as a flasher. We
are clearly not here to buy shots or start fights with strangers. But we are
greeted with the all too familiar:
“Sorry lads – no fancy dress.”
We plead our case to a bright green haired lady (whom I
originally thought might be in fancy dress herself) who accepts we can be let in
if the Stag removes his wig. This is where he unhelpfully adds – “What about my
giant, fake cock?” to which she is not amused and we move on.
We move on to Leeds Brewery Tap a few doors down who were
most welcoming. But, an hour later, we find the entrance to Tapped Leeds, which
I was particularly excited about, blocked again by the same rule. WHY?
I extend this ruling of NO FUN to the continuous NO SPORTS
rule that seems to define many of my favourite drinking holes. They are places
that are great for a conversation, sure, but if I want to cheer on my team I’m
often forced into the nearest 70’s hungover BrewCo pub that offers nothing more exciting
than Caffrey’s.
My mate and I have often joked about opening a “Craft Beer
Sports Bar” in Manchester to satisfy our conflicting needs. I’m beginning to
think it’s not crazy.
The Leeds Brewery Tap proved on Saturday that the two can
mix. The bar staff seemed a little alarmed at what they’d let themselves in for
at first sight, but then relaxed once they saw the sort we were and what we
wanted to drink. Other pub-goers joined in our banter and laughed at the fancy
dress. All of the group passed around beers of unusual taste and strength –
even those who may be regular lager drinkers. We were asked to quiet down once
when we had admittedly reached a point of loudness too much for any pub,
anywhere. I thank them for allowing us the time and treating us like any
regular customers.
I could expand on my examples of when I feel that beer
focused bars have been one dimensional in their idea of fun, but I leave it at
that. Why can’t we drink great beer and have a pool table? Why can’t we drink
great beer and watch Liverpool win the title? Why can’t we drink great beer and
embarrass our ballerina-dressed mate? Why can’t we drink great beer and have a
jukebox? Why can’t we drink great beer and have regular pub fun?
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