The Southern Suburbs’ Bar Crawl: 5/10

The concept of the ‘Bar Crawl’ is deeply entrenched in American and European society. What Helen Zille seemingly forgot during her rant regarding the pros of colonialism was to state the joys of the Pub crawl making its way to South African shores. For now in Cape Town especially one can attempt to drown ones sorrows with huge amounts of alcohol. BUT instead of being forced to sober up in the very same dingy bar you got drunk in, you simply move on out to the next location. Fleet footed, staggering and beer goggles firmly attached you are invincible as you make your way up Long Street. Ominous figures that loom on the various street corners offering you sweeties for the evening are blurred out as your euphoric stampede will be dampened by no man! This might all sound fairly rosy and it is, but that is town and what it is known to offer. What about the Southern Suburbs…

“A bar crawl in the Suburbs? Simply preposterous my dear Watson!” I exclaimed with great vigour as my friend and I continued our Sherlock Holmes dialogue. But a few drinks and several regrettable whatsapps later, we had assembled a brave crew of men and women ready to take on the Southern Suburbs Pub crawl.

 

The night started with everyone boasting about how much alcohol they would be able to consume over the course of the evening. The gameplan was simple- make it to Forresters Arms by 8pm or else… you would be eliminated and shunned from society! Needless to say, the punishment carried more weight at the time.

But away we were. After hopping out of the overpacked uber amongst hollers, and well wishes from the Zimbabwean driver, the game was afoot. The initial euphoria was short-lived as we realized that our first stop was Sticky Fingers on Rondebosch main road. This wasn’t our dream, our vision, but alas several draughts seemed to lighten the mood.

Dodging traffic had been the highlight of the evening, this was due to the fact that the core group of the crawl didn’t enjoy drinking beer. But we soldiered on. We headed North and eventually made our way to Down South. Despite it being located in the middle of the most depressing shopping center on Main Road it was my personal favourite for the night. I don’t think I have ever had such an enjoyable Pina Colada in my existence. My only act of appreciation, bar (pun intended) paying would be dropping the menu so that you guys can check them out and see for yourself (Down South Menu).

LOCATION! LOCATION! LOCATION! Now I finally understand those over friendly real estate Agents. The bars we had visited had been nice enough, but my god the distance between them was insufferable. By the time we had made it to the Toad outside Newlands Rugby stadium, euphoric chants and drunk songs had been replaced by complaints of aching legs and a growing hunger. The toad was brief, if I recall no one actually drank. The night was turning into a massive flop. The girls all far more sober and rational, cut their losses and headed home. The guys slid their insecurities under the carpet and convinced each other that we would now have more fun with “just the guys”.

Thankfully I was able to persuade “the guys” to cancel the remaining three trips and head straight to Forries. This was done fairly easily as I just had to convince them that it was 5 minutes to 8pm. The gullible nature of drunk people renewed my faith in humanity, as I witnessed my five best friends sprinting up Dean street, coughing and doubled over, but determined to make it to Forries before 8pm. It was 6:52pm. At Forries the be all and end all of our trip, we weren’t let down by delicious pizzas and burgers. It is also worth noting that not a sip of beer was consumed. Everyone said their goodbyes and we were all back home by 8:30pm

The night was fun enough but considering the amount of cash spent and real estate traversed I see no reason to ever repeat it. My final suggestion, would be to stick to the tried and tested Long Street pub crawl.

Southern Suburbs Bar Crawl: 5/10