Drink and Be (Relatively) Merry

To be clarion clear: Scope mouthwash is intended only to kill off the germs left in your speak-pit by refugee hamburger chunks, feces particles, and stray pubes. These things cause bad breath and plaque formation, which complicate things like job interviews and getting laid. The hardworking men and women at Proctor & Gamble saw fit to load up Scope with an astonishing 18.9 % alcohol content—thrice the potency of the average beer. No one at Proctor & Gamble is advocating the recreational use of Scope in any way, shape or form. In fact, it’s very likely that swallowing Scope will render your stomach a post-apocalyptic wasteland of Thunderdome proportions. Ask any doctor. He’ll tell you that shitting enough black blood to bury Pompeii is not a standard hangover symptom. 

Having said that, sometimes necessity is the mother of chugging medicinal mouthwash until you puke electric blue bile. For example: let’s say Mr. Phileas Fogg of London has wagered you 20,000 pounds sterling that he can get mailbox-fucking blitzed in a more concise time than you, good sir. Or maybe you currently reside in Provo, UT with the holy sabbath upon ye, and there’s no one who can drive you to Springville for hooch.

Photo: Kegans DuBois

 

This is how we find otherwise intelligent people mixing Scope margaritas in their living room. People like Dane Newman, a philosophy T.A. who reads two books for every episode of Tim and Eric that you watch. Let’s face it—most high school kids in the country know where and how to get beer. Some of us are late bloomers. Newman, newly covetous of the bottle’s contents, found himself in an unfortunately common predicament: he wanted alcohol, but didn’t know how to go about getting it. It sounds ridiculous, but booze is undetectable to most BYU Cougars, just like Columbus’ ships were, virtually invisible to the Natives who couldn’t even imagine a canoe that size. Provo kids know where to find LaVelle Edwards Stadium, Smith’s, a gas station, a movie theater and their fiancé’s apartment. They couldn’t find beer with a GPS and a pack of bloodhounds trained to sniff out hops and barley.

So it is to people like Dane Newman, suffering from hardcore mouthwash-related ulcers at the tender age of 24, that your reporter dedicates this brief rundown of watering holes and beer repositories in Happy Valley. Because, although Ben Franklin says that beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy, Provo is ample evidence that Elohim harbors unbendable disdain for at least a modest number of his spiritual poopings. Without alcohol, the excruciating sexual tension that accompanies an early to mid-twenties stint in “Dry Hump City” makes a body pine for a high power rifle and the nearest clock tower.  In fits of unbridled sobriety, the Wasatch mountains, once picturesque, start closing in like the walls of a German Expressionist nightmare. It is to you that we at SLUG say put down the mouthwash, surrender your car keys, and drink up.

A Beuford Gifford’s Libation Emporium (190 W. Center Street, Provo)

Pros: ABG’s is probably your best bet if social drinking is your game. It also functions as a sort of no-man’s land between the various bar cultures, with psychobillies, hipster douchebags, aging winos and the occasional schweet bro co-existing in relative Pax Inebriata. With its friendly staff and laid-back atmosphere, ABG’s is a fantastic place to drink cheap beer and listen to Tom Waits until your eyes are bleary and your legs are Jell-O.

Cons: Watch out for buzzardly older women, who recognize that they are too old to be shaking rumps at Atchafalaya’s, but believe themselves too dignified to join the dregs at City Limits. You’ll be prohibited from using plastic unless you can commit to a tab of at least twenty dollars (get petty cash at 7-Eleven, cheapskates) Also, more than any other bar on Center street, ABG’s is a Mecca for cops seeking an easy satisfaction of their monthly quota.

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Comments on this article

Posted on June 24, 2009 by dan

i giggled my ass off. i live in cali, but traverse the wasatch front on a weekly basis. i know what its like to try to find a cold one at midnight on a sunday night in provo.

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