A few words of wisdom for any of you bar-going enthusiasts–consider this post fair warning for anyone interested in exploring Iowa City’s nightlife outside of the usual downtown strip.
If you ever happen to amble on over to The Vine (On the corner of Gilbert and Prentiss) and an aged, grizzly-like man named Steve introduces himself and proceeds to invite you to a game of pool, shake his hand, smile and then politely decline. Whatever you do, do not accept his offer. And whatever you do, absolutely positively never-in-a-million-billion years mention Steve’s jacket.
The story I’m about to convey is loosely based on real-life events. I say loosely because I had been drinking since 3PM, and it wasn’t until sometime after 10PM that it all hit the fan. So while I’m fairly confident all that I’m saying is accurate, I wouldn’t make any wagers regarding this story’s correctness.
After approximately four games of gentlemen-friendly pool (all of which Steve gracefully lost), Steve decided it was time to salvage any dignity he was able to keep from the table and exit for the evening. Before his exit, Steve went over to his regular bar stool to pick up and put on his cool suede jacket. To Steve’s alarm, the jacket was not anywhere in sight. So what does Steve do you ask? Well, let’s think about what any normal, rational-minded, sober person would do if confronted with this sort of dilemma.
I for one, would first ask myself, did I happen to put my jacket on another stool? Or perhaps I left it at the bar where I had first sat down? If the jacket weren’t to turn up in either of these areas, perhaps it would be best to ask around? After all, a lot of people visited the bar–99% of them having all brought coats. Possibly, someone mistook “my cool, suede, dated, depleted jacket” for their “cool, suede, dated, depleted jacket”!
So now let’s take a poll. How many of you think Steve tried out any of these logical next steps? Probably to no one’s surprise, Steve did not do any of these. Instead, Steve stormed over to my good buddy Jon, kicked over a stool (having spilled an entire beer in route) and, without any sympathy, threatened every precious inch of Jon’s manhood if the jacket weren’t to be found immediately. Thankfully, Jon wasn’t alone, shackled in a basement with Steve and rather in a public, well-lit restaurant with plenty of witnesses. That said–Steve managed to calm himself when a normal, rational-minded, sober person found his jacket and offered it up in exchange for Jon’s precious future for a family. Where was the jacket you ask? Well, sure enough, the jacket was left at the bar where Steve had first sat down.
Despite the madness that “I think” actually ensued, we all left the bar without even a scratch. So long as you remember these few words of wisdom, I would encourage everyone to experience The Vine on a Friday afternoon. Cheap wings, a fish special and $3 steins of Boulevard are on the menu well into the evening. It’s an exceptional institution–and please don’t let this story keep you thinking otherwise.
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