DRUNK DIARIES: A hipster how-to

In Athens, everyone wears a uniform: frat stars, freshmen … and hipsters.

It’s obvious enough how to dress if you want to be the first two — buy shorts, wear shorts; buy sunglasses, wear sunglasses — but how to be the last?

Trying to be a hipster for the night, I found, requires some preparation.

Dark-rimmed glasses, check. V-neck, got it. Nut-hugging Levi’s, yep — I’m reminded every time I sit down.

Leather motorcycle jacket, check, though it must be noted that I drive a Volvo, not a hog.

Lastly, vintage boots I bought in Brooklyn, two checks; one for each boot.

Upon his arriving at my house for a pre-game, I discovered that my navigator for the evening, Frank, was also wearing dark-rimmed glasses. Un-cool, but the show must go on.

After a round of mixed drinks containing only the finest Evan Williams’ bourbon, we headed towards downtown in Frank’s Prius; an appropriate vehicle for the evening’s theme.

Our first stop was the exceptionally nice Highwire, which is the liquor-laden brother of the beer-oriented Trappeze bar.

The first thing I noticed was an odd sensation in my terribly hip vintage boots: carpet. I had never been in to a bar in Athens whose floor had a thread-count; it felt great.

After opting to sit at the bar, we also encountered something that was totally foreign to me in my late-night bar hopping experience: a menu.

It took a few minutes for the shock to wear off, but when I came to, I ordered an old-fashioned, a mixed cocktail that features Bulleit Bourbon and is a favorite of Don Draper, the king of making drinking look cool.

Though it was one of the most expensive drinks I’ve ever bought in Athens ($6), it was also one of the best-tasting mixed drinks I’ve ever had.

Our lovely bartender, Liz, proudly announced that each small glass contained an entire shot of bourbon and proceeded to answer all of my pestering questions.

Apparently, Highwire is very serious about maintaining its calm and swanky atmosphere. Any obnoxious patrons gutsy enough to call her “sweetie” in the wrong manner would be kicked out instantly.

… Well, that rules out some good lines.

Another shock to the senses during our time at Highwire was how quiet it was in comparison with literally every other bar in town. Frank, myself and the bartender were able to have a casual conversation at a normal volume.

As much as I enjoyed Highwire, my limited budget for the evening did not allow for another round — so we went to the Mecca of all hipster bars: The Manhattan Café.

With a delicious can of $1.75 Schlitz in-hand, I took in all that this swinging joint had to offer.

I can honestly say that there was not a single item of new clothing on any of the people inside The Manhattan. The attire was in-keeping with the bar itself, which feels like a downstairs bar in Greenwich Village circa-1966 in all the right ways.

There was a small huddle of people mod-dancing to “Louie, Louie” in the center, and various others hanging about both at the bar or sitting on various pieces of furniture in cozy nooks in the corner.

Not too unlike the concept of free peanuts at General’s, The Manhattan boasts complimentary popcorn, though there was sign that indicated that you had to purchase a drink in order to gain access to the salty goodness.

For those that have not paired popcorn with beer before, I highly recommend it. The Manhattan is onto something.

In order to fully cover the hipster turf, we only allotted time for one drink in each location. Frank finished his Schlitz before mine, so I chugged about 50 cents worth and then we were out of there.

There was a cover in the theater half of Flicker, so we posted up on a couch in the bar side and had a banquet of Original Coors tall boys.

The clientele was not too dissimilar from the Manhattan; many were literally the same people; a bunch of the members of the mod-dancing circle filed in shortly after we arrived.

It wasn’t as visually retro as the bar that preceded it, but there was a nice clean feeling created by the brightly colored walls and a living room set near the front of the bar that would fit in your grandparent’s beach house.

Flicker possessed another trait of hipster bars that kind of threw me: the concept of never getting ID’d at the door felt so unnatural, but kind of empowering.

I always got ID’d at the bar, of course, but just strolling right in felt good.

With our Coors’ banquet finished, Frank and I headed for Little Kings.

Other than ourselves and the bartenders, there were probably no more than three customers inside, so we made a quick getaway in seconds flat.

No offense, Little Kings, but empty bars depress me.

The next bar, Max Canada, proved to be nearly as fruitless, but in a different manner.

There was an entire sorority and all their dates dressed up in Tacky Christmas wear dominating the bar that night, so it was impossible to get an accurate feel for the usual crowd, which I can only assume is a little bit more “hip.”

But, since we were there anyway, we got some PBRs and posted up.

It was at this point that both of our phones began receiving texts from people in bars on different side of downtown, so we decided to divide and conquer.

Frank went onto Moonshine and I ended up, oddly enough, back to Highwire and that terrific carpet for a brief moment before walking back from downtown in the blistering cold.

It was enjoyable trying to be a hipster for the night, and whether I pulled it off or not is really up to the real ones.

I’ve got to hand it to them. They do it right: cheap beer, carpet and popcorn.

What more could one ask for?