Five years ago, several of us sat in the back room at Fanizzi’s and hatched a plan. The evening began at Victor’s — when we arrived, ready for dinner, we were told they were completely booked. After eating snacks at the bar and sipping a cocktail or two, we landed across town, ordering a second round of snacks and cocktails. “We should do this every year!” And thus, an annual family tradition that has come to be known simply as “The Bar Hop,” was born.
We’ve been to many fine establishments over the years and even survived torrential downpours during the year of the “Splash Dash Bar Hop.” Five years is a big deal. And 2012 is the end of it all. So we kicked it up a notch … with tshirts! Here’s the front …
And here’s the back …
The evening began at Napi’s with good cheer and good snacks.
We then stopped in at The Squealing Pig (yes, Bostonians, it’s the same Pig of Med School area popularity. Except they have oysters).
Third stop was the Top of the Pot.
Our tshirts were very popular. We had people coming up to us all night either telling us how much they loved them or asking why it was the final bar hop (one of us would just turn around so they could read the back of the shirt.) I also could hear people reading the text on the shirt out loud to each other and making comments and laughing.
After our third stop, we realized we needed some food and as we could see the Surf Club from the deck of the Pot, we scooted across the beach into their back entrance and plopped ourselves at the bar.
Just so happens that the opening ceremony of the Olympics was starting so we were able to see most of it from our bar stools.
And the final stop of the evening, as tradition dictates, is the Governor Bradford. If you are ever in Ptown you must go there for Drag Karaoke. The place is filled with all sorts of people (meaning if you are uncomfortable in a gay bar, you’ll be just fine here.) Most patrons are pretty impaired by the time they get up and sing so it can be hilarious. One poor guy, Mousy, was so out of it that he stood up on stage with his mouth open while Dana (below) sang his song for him. Later, he was seen curled up on the floor in front of the speaker.
Lest we end up like Mousy, we called it a night and headed home hopeful for next year’s theme: “The Mayans Were Wrong.”