Last Friday the PrissyBitch and I put on our cowboy boots and headed out to the PBR in Hartford. At first I’d assumed this is was going to be like the Bridgeport event last winter with the whack ass riders who can barely stay on the bull, but it wasn’t. It was the “Built Ford Tough Series” with all the riders you see on TV (if you’re me…no one else watches this crap). This made us actually a bit sad. Our old buddy McKinnon has been out for most of the year after a bull accidentally ripped off his helmet and gave him a very serious concussion and broken jaw. So he wasn’t there, and neither was our old buddy Jason because the BFTS has its own traveling bullfighters, not just guys who come in for the event.
As per usual, we got the cheapest tickets available and then just found the best empty seats in the place. We feel no guilt about this. Since the XL Center insists on selling $9 Bud Lights we feel they owe us. So we sat through the seriously gay antics of the rodeo clown (who does a mean “Single Ladies” dance but is otherwise just creepy) and eventually got our tickets signed by the winner. And when PB asked one of the riders where they were going, we found that she’d picked one of the non-english speaking guys. Damn Brazilians.
See we were worried about finding the guys after the event. In the casino it was easy. You just walk around until you see the cowboy hats. In B-po it was even easier. The hotel and the main strip of bars are no where near each other, so they guys just hung out in their hotel bar, but in Hartford it was a free for all. We tried the Hilton first since it was right across the street, but the bar was tiny and filled with old people. We saw a few guys in PBR shirts come in, but they had wives and kids with them. So then I decided I thought they’d be on Pratt Street. It’s right across the road from the XL Center and the mashed potatoes at Vaughan’s are great. No luck there either. We stopped in at City Steam. No cowboys. We saw a couple walking down the street but lost them and could not figure out where they’d disappeared to.
By then I was feeling like this night was not meant to be. It was a bust, so we headed back to the East Beat where we could find cheap beer and be closer to my house. First we tried Sunset Jack’s, where they had $3 beers, terrifying lights that nearly gave me a seizure, and about 4 other patrons. It was sad.
So we went to The Maple Cafe which, according to my mom, is filled with drug dealers at that time of night. I didn’t see any drug deals but there was a feisty bartender who looked disturbingly like a hygienist at my dentist’s office. Beer was still $3 so that was a plus, but the Photo Hunt machine had no erotic anything. So we, of course, took it upon ourselves to make the machine dirty. It saddens me to think the hilarious “Winner” names we posted were erased when the machine was unplugged at the end of the night. (Why do bars do that? It’s silly. People love to beat each other at stuff.)
So we went home, stuffed our face with sausage and tomatoes while watching 30 Rock and then passed the hell out.