Plenty of free parking.
A strip mall setting.
No cover.
You’re drinking in The ‘Burbs, my friend.
A two-night, four bar, Bucks and Montgomery County junket last Friday and Saturday nights was nearly a complete sausage party tour…
Fatty, generic, store brand, breakfast-style sausage at that.
Save for a few lithe lasses Saturday at The Black Bull in Holland, widespread evidence of suburban pulchritude was sparse.
Desperation, however, seemed widespread.
Meatheads in too-tight t-shirts. Badly done comb-overs. Bright white sneakers.
Nice.
The most notable instance occurred late Friday evening and early Saturday morning at The Freight House in Doylestown, a city which apparently has some citizens who are upset at the amount of teenage loitering that can often be seen at night in the Bucks County seat.
While clichéd danceable rock blared loudly inside the well decorated bar and grill, a stumbling septuagenarian was an embarrassment to himself, if not his entire generation.
Clad in a light blue short-sleeved button-down (was buttoned-down way too far), short shorts (revealing frighteningly thin legs) and white patent leather slip-ons, the geezer meandered around and not-so harmlessly flirted with women a third of his age.
His demeanor alone would have made him an attention lightning rod, but Ebenezer Booze was not content to stop there. In addition to his apoplectic dancing and dapper duds, atop his gray head was a tan Russian fur hat (ushanka) that made it look like a muskrat had leapt from the ceiling and was now humping his head.
My companion and I nodded toward the gent and noted that you are only as old as you feel.
And he seemed to be feeling about 22. Or is that .22 (blood alcohol level)?
Of course, later in the parking lot, we observed Grampy listing badly to his left and staggering toward his land yacht for the ride home.
As he tore off into the sticky hot summer night, tires squealing, he illustrated that with age does not always come wisdom.
He left his hat behind, too.

Tags: drinking bucks county