Bar hopping on the downtown train

It's some enchanted evening when light rail is your designated driver

By Alex Neth, Rocky Mountain News (Contact)

Published July 31, 2008 at 7 p.m.

Text size  

• 3 Comments
• Email
• Print

Photo by Photo by Ellen Jaskol/Photo illustration by Cindy House/Rocky Mountain News

A light-rail train streaks past a Denver intersection on a recent evening.

I've spent plenty of time in bars. And I've spent plenty of hours riding the light rail. It is, after all, the boulevardier's taxpayer-provided designated driver, the blessed teleportation device back home after an evening spent killing Midori Sours and Hamm's in some unsavory back-alley establishment. The two naturally go together.

But I'd never followed them all the way to their logical conclusion. I'd never done a Light Rail Bar Crawl.

You read that right - Light Rail Bar Crawl. From early afternoon way down south at Mineral Avenue to closing time north of Union Station.

It took stamina. It took spine. It took a strong stomach and a mess of RTD one-way tickets.

Challenging, absolutely. But also a heck of a good summer evening.

Mineral Avenue Station

5 p.m.: The sole rule of Light Rail Bar Crawl was simple: The bars in question had to be located within a reasonable distance of the rail line.

My group - my wife, Brandy, and our friends Wendy and Clara - broke that rule immediately. Not that the walk from the Mineral station to our first destination in the Aspen Grove Shopping Center was all that challenging. It just felt like it, since it was a hot June afternoon and we were destined for Champps.

Which is not to denigrate the various corporate food halls that dot America's suburban landscape. Really. Establishments like Champps serve a purpose: shoveling oversize cocktails into couples on the verge of a post-shopping breakdown, filling the bellies of youth soccer teams with potato skins and cheeseburgers, and (most honorably) offering service-industry employees a place to get their drink on after the shift is over.

But after that hike across a sea of superheated suburban asphalt, it wouldn't have mattered if I was going to play darts with Humphrey Bogart in Joey Ramone's rumpus room. My bad attitude was growing, and I just knew that this place wasn't going to cut it.

I was wrong. The air conditioning was on full blast, the beer was cold and the plateful of beige appetizers (chicken fingers, cheese sticks, potato skins) was just what we needed to sop up the evening's debauchery-to-be. I could have done without the Celine Dion on the soundtrack, but I just told myself to forget it, kid. It's Littleton. I settled our tab and off we went.

* Stop here if: It's Sunday morning and you feel like having brunch and hitting the Bloody Mary bar.

* Another alternative: Grab a margarita at Table Mesa next door.

Downtown Littleton

6:32 p.m.: You'll notice the lag in time between bar visits. That, friend, is the price you pay to have RTD be your designated driver - a good half-hour elapsed between leaving Champps, boarding a northbound light-rail train, disembarking at the Littleton station and discovering, to my surprise, that Littleton actually has a downtown. A historic downtown. Historic Downtown Littleton, they call it.

Said historic area shelters an independently owned tavern called McKinners Pizza Bar. And that's where my group headed.

McKinners featured updated old-school dive decor with narrow booths and dark wood paneling, but the clientele was Modern Suburban Family, and the pizza is excellent, with designer pies like the Mandarin (fresh spinach, mandarin oranges, honey pecans, house vinaigrette and mozzarella) and the PBR Salute (pepperoni, black olive, basil, crushed red pepper, feta and mozzarella). I tend to be a pepperoni-and-nothin'-else kinda guy, but even I had to admit that the Pear & Prosciutto variety was pretty smack-dab.

Even better was the beer selection: specifically, the fact that the vastly underrated Kokanee was on tap. Those Canadians sure know how to make a refreshing summer brew. Must be that sizzling northern climate. A few of those suckers and we hoofed it back to the Littleton station. Northward ho!

* Stop here if: You want to try Elvis' sandwich - with peanut butter, banana, honey and thick-sliced bacon on pane bianco bread.

* Another alternative: Try the Fat Frog (2530 W. Main St.) or the Gorilla Room (5654 S. Prince St.).

Englewood Station

7:53 p.m.: I just knew there was a bar outside the Englewood station. Knew it. After all, planning poohbahs don't design these ready-made mixed-use developments without incorporating a saloon or two, right?

They didn't neglect their duty. On the grave site of dear old Cinderella City you'll find Blondie's Firehouse Pub & Restaurant. Blondie's is the tavern equivalent of a Jager Bomb - it'll get you messed up, but elements of it may very well decorate your bathroom tiles afterward. They seriously pour the booze on you here, with every first order a two-for-one. And they don't skimp on filling those jiggers. Which might explain why, in the 20 or so minutes we sat on the patio, the following happened:

A guy with massive neck tattoos and oversize jean shorts bummed cigarettes from our group without using any consonants. A dude with a roofer's tan and suspiciously rotten teeth ordered shots for himself and his buddies and then shrieked, "Guess who's gettin' loaded tonight!" After that, he attempted to start a fight with a group of women.

Memo to developers near and far: You can build spendy lofts, you can create an outdoor sculpture garden, but you can't cut Englewood's mullet. We slammed our beers and fled before the fisticuffs began.

* Stop here if: You're in the mood for two-for-ones - and bathrooms decorated in pinups.

* Another alternative: Getting off a stop south at Oxford Avenue and hoofing it across Santa Fe to Red & Jerry's (1840 W. Oxford).

Alameda Station

9:20 p.m.: This time, the time gap between bar visits was because we had to take a pit stop at my house to let my poor dog outside. No one wants to come back from light-rail bar-crawlin' to a puddle on the pillow.

Coincidentally, my house happened to be near our next planned stop, the famous Imperial, which you know as one of Denver's best Chinese restaurants but which residents within the establishment's designated Stumbling Zone (copyright pending) know as a great place to snack on fried treats and slug oversize, fruity cocktails.

I realized, as we took the remaining four stools in the tiny bar area - there were only five to begin with - that our hourglass was emptying. We needed to get crackin'. We had bars yet to visit, light-rail trains to catch, and here it was past 9? For a moment I felt like Sisyphus at the bottom of the hill, leaning against his rock, staring grimly upward at his fate . . . but there's no booze in Hades, so I snapped to and ordered us a Volcano and a Pu-Pu Platter.

The Imperial's Web site describes a Volcano as being "a fruit shareable drink served in a flaming volcano." To translate: a big bowl of alcohol, featuring rums galore cavorting in the syrupy embrace of fruit juice, and a shot of Bacardi 151 in the center. Since it's traditionally lighted upon service, I fired ours briefly for the sake of photography; once it was documented, though, I capped it and spooned the 151 into the bowl. I go into every Volcano expecting to get a little singed.

Naturally we ended up ordering a second one, because the first was gone and it was so enjoyable, what with the fire and the fruit juice and the liquor(s). Even though the Pu-Pu Platter is generally the worst deal in any Chinese restaurant, by the end of that second Volcano each spring roll and won ton was my dearest ally. Fortified by Chinese ribs and rum that could strip the paint from an old desk, we sallied west through the parking lot and out to Alameda Station.

* Stop here if: You normally take rum intravenously.

* Another alternative: Tex-Mex and Coronas next door at the Blue Bonnet.

Osage Station

Around 10 p.m.: I grew up in this state and have spent most of my life here, which makes the fact that I'd never been to the Buckhorn Exchange all the more ridiculous. It holds Colorado's oldest liquor license, it's covered in ancient dead animals both real (moose, mountain goat) and imaginary (jackalope) and it's by far the easiest establishment I know of to reach via light rail, located as it is directly outside the Osage station. I went to college down the street. How was this visit my first?

We climbed the stairs to the bar, which is even older than the restaurant, having been built in 1857 in Germany, and looks like a piece from a Western film. Frankly, so did some of the customers.

Dudes with real-life handlebar mustaches and white cowboy suits were listening to Roz Brown and Bill Barwick sing Cool Water. All that was missing was a game of faro. If I'd called someone an owlhoot, I'd have been shot.

By then, things were starting to get a little rough around the edges for me. I do know the following is true: I drank whiskey and sang along with the gentlemen onstage, I struck up a conversation with a bartender from back East and by the time we left, he and his barback were doing shots with us. Shots of what, I've no clue. In handwriting that would baffle the CIA's doctor, I noted that we left at 10:45. That was the last note I'd take all evening.

* Stop here if: You'd like a steak the size of your Stetson and a straight shot of Colorado drinking history.

* Another alternative: This is it. The Exchange is the lone establishment for blocks.

Union Station

Midnight?: The train ride here was shameful. Simply shameful. We managed, in the span of maybe 10 minutes, to drunk-dial at least three people on our cell phones. All we needed were four lampshades.

Even though McLoughlin's is just over the Millennium Bridge from Union Station and a very doable walk in most circumstances, given our group's condition it felt like hiking to Siberia. Still, we four were committed to our journey - this wasn't some typical night on the town, by God, this was the Light Rail Bar Crawl! Our experience would become an iconic example of responsible partying, serve as a boost to Denver's tourism economy and win us a gigantic silver trophy stuffed with $5 bills and free passes to Water World!

The problem with that fantasy, aside from the complete unreality, was that we had no idea how we were going to "succeed." Did success mean making it home safely? Or simply collapsing in our steps?

We sat on McLoughlin's fine patio, bathing in the Irish pub- meets-wine-bar ambience, and chewed the idea. Should we end our trip here at this relaxing establishment that offered great people-watching - as well as a stiff pour of one of my favorite whiskeys, Black Bush? Or should we keep going until the wheels flew off? A few perfectly poured Guinnesses helped make our decision: We would soldier on until someone turned on the lights and made us leave.

* Stop here if: You want the LoDo vibe without, you know, LoDo.

* Another alternative: There are plenty within a short walk from Union Station, including Fado Irish Pub (1735 19th St.) and the Cruise Room, in the Oxford Hotel (1600 17th St.).

Even later: How did we get here? I don't remember. The light rail doesn't go down this far, and neither does my memory. I travel back in time to those few minutes and all I see are dancing cartoon squirrels.

Still, My Brother's Bar is probably my favorite establishment in the entire world, and our group couldn't have picked a better place to come to rest. Over a past-midnight meal of burgers, mini corn dogs and, yes, beer, we attempted to make sense of the previous eight hours.

Started in the sleepy south suburbs, crossed at least three municipalities, ate more food than the four of us would ingest in a given week, drank deep the draught of Englewood and ventured into the throbbing heart of downtown Denver on a Saturday night. Been to Blondie's and the Buckhorn, McKinners and McLoughlin's. Mixed more liquors than a cruise-ship sewer line. Knew, even if we didn't want to say it, that the next morning was going to hurt. Badly.

My Brother's last call came at a merciful moment, preventing the order of a final round. We spilled onto 15th and into a gypsy cab - whole other story there - and in what seemed like seconds, were back home safe and sound.

Safe, anyway.

* Stop here if: You want a ground-level view of Denver culture or have just finished riding the light rail to seven bars and really, really want to eat a tiny corn dog at 1 a.m.

* Another alternative: Paris Winebar (1549 Platte St.), next to the famous Paris on the Platte, offers a variety of vino, beer and hors' d'oeuvres.

• August 1, 2008

  2:09 p.m.

  Suggest removal

  askeehan writes:

  You noted four prerequisites: stamina, spine, strong stomach, and "a mess of RTD one-way tickets." You're on your own for the first three, but you might save a bit with an Express Service Day Pass -- all the rides you want across three zones for $8.25. Or you could do it the hard way - marry an RTD employee and get a free Spouse Pass. (To be fair, I married her 27 years before she joined RTD.)
  So what about the rest of the Light Rail lines? Some of the best bar burgers in town are 3 blocks away from the Nine Mile station at Parker Road and I-225, in the Nightshift Saloon.

• August 1, 2008

  7:13 p.m.

  Suggest removal

  jamesdenver writes:

  Yes I realize its a light railed themed story - but regarding late night waits: You can easily traverse the I-25 B'way to Lodo stretch far faster by bike.

  I would never wait on transit to take me a mere mile or two when I can simply get there myself in a fraction of the time. (sans car still)

• August 6, 2008

  8:33 p.m.

  Suggest removal

  ernesttubb writes:

  Hey, great minds think alike: http://i-love-beer.blogspot.com/2008/...

Featured

• Rocky Multimedia

  

  The news comes alive in our videos and slide shows. Catch up on what's happening today.

• Holiday Lights

  

  Is your house the jolliest on the block? Submit your holiday lights display.

• Holiday Gift Guide

  

  Looking to get a jump-start on the holiday shopping season?

• Mount Crushmore

  

  Which four Broncos greats should be immortalized on Mount Crushmore? Vote here.

• Bronco Dean's rant

  

  Listen to Bronco Dean's midweek rant on the Chiefs.

• Broncos Video

  

  Get the latest from Dove Valley as the Broncos prepare for Sunday's matchup.

• Calendar wallpaper

  

  Download this month's desktop wallpaper calendar

• Sam Adams' Open Mic

  

  Open Mic: Stirrin' the Soup with Matt Iseman

• The Rocky @ 150 Years

  

  Read the Rocky's coverage of Colorado's cannibal, Alfred Packer, in 1886.