To shake off our backpacker bar beginnings, we decided to spent the night exploring all that the Viaduct has to offer. The weird thing about the Viaduct is what looks like a trendy family restaurant during the day will morph into a bar complete with DJ and dance floor at night. It’s strangely delightful in comparison to the backpacker bars dotting Queen St.
The evening and the shenanigans all started off at Outlaws. As soon as we moved from the first bar to the second, I spotted the giant moose hanging above the fireplace and started plotting how I was going to swing from the moose without crashing into the fire. Thankfully, my thoughts were interrupted by an extremely drunken Aussie who couldn’t string 6 words together. He came over to us to verbally assault my twin from another mother with his 6 incoherent words and didn’t seem to catch on when the jokes started rolling in. The Aussie with his staring, grinning, and stroking the moose’s chin was all comical but he finally clued in that it was time for him to leave.
It wasn’t soon after this that we made our way to the next bar. While chatting with my merry band of misfits, I spotted a weirdo wearing bright yellow kitty gloves and knew that I had to have them. With my trusty partner in crime by my side, we made our way to the bar on the second level to introduce ourselves to the weirdo. I was trying to think of ways to convince this fool to hand over his gloves but turns out that all I had to do was smile, say hi, and the gloves along with a drink were mine. New car smell is awesome! Sadly, the captain of the rugby team approached me soon after to let me know that the weirdo was part of a rugby team and the gloves symbolized the fact that he fumbled the ball and had to wear them as punishment. The captain then proceeded to confiscated the gloves and told me if the weirdo lost the gloves again he would have to be punished further. I took it as a challenge and went in to claim the gloves that were rightfully mine. Long story short – I ran away to the next bar with a gloved hand just like Michael Jackson.
The fun times continued on as we went from bar to bar. There were drinks that we had to drink, fedoras that had to be treated like frisbees, an egg that had to be told off, and friends that had to be rescued from kiwi men on the creep. The night ended early when the youngest member of my merry band of misfits got kicked out of the bar and we all decided it was time to call it a night.