Hoboken Bar Crawl Story

Hoboken Bar Crawl Story {My eyes are bleeding!}

bar crawl story NJ monthly millennial

Apparently “bar crawl” is a buzzword. Back in my day, this was “hitting a few bars…”

A relatively “in print” NJ magazine (NJ Monthly) recently approved for publication an article entitled: “Come Crawl With Me: Exploring Hoboken’s Bar Scene,” written by millennial Maryrose Mullen.

I clicked the link, thinking I’d see something interesting.

Geeze Louise! I’m shocked at what is considered “journalism” (or even mildly interesting) these days.

Something that could have had tons of depth, color, opinionated observations, character – had NONE OF THE ABOVE.

I’m telling you – I can write a more interesting piece about my daily bowel movements than this.

(See the article below – with our comments in YELLOW).

Come Crawl With Me: Exploring Hoboken’s Bar Scene

Downtown Hoboken is known for its vibrant bar scene. Our reporter learns why.

(This was their tagline to the story. Will you really learn about why? Or get nauseated by yet another instance of the grossly overused word “vibrant?”)

The NJ Transit train from Bloomfield pulls into Hoboken Terminal at 5:30. It’s Thursday afternoon rush hour and commuters are pouring in from Manhattan. Some hurry to suburban-bound trains. Others filter into the Hoboken streets. My companion and I are on a mission of our own: To explore Hoboken’s vaunted bar scene.

(Hmmm. I wonder what “explore” means? Do you? Will they find out anything interesting? Take in some fascinating observations they’ll share? Ooooh, I’m on the edge of my seat!!! Hurry and tell us!)

5:38: The first stop on our bar crawl is Cooper’s Union (104 Hudson Street), a four-block walk from the terminal. It’s inviting and dimly lit, with an industrial feel. There are two bars; at this early hour the rear bar is empty. We take a seat in the front room where the laid-back crowd is slowly building—mostly twenty-something professionals grabbing an after-work drink with friends. Our waiter recommends a creamsicle: vanilla vodka and orange juice. I fear its sweetness, but the drink turns out to be just right, and tempers the heat of the buffalo chicken dip.

(Okay, you made some tepid observations (with no opinion), and you told us you had a creamsicle drink that took the sting out of your spicy appetizer. SO FUCKING WHAT? What does that mean? I’ll tell you what that means – that your skills at documenting an experience are not “JUST RIGHT.”)

7:09: We walk two blocks to Washington Street, Hoboken’s main drag. Our destination is the Brass Rail (135 Washington Street), a 100-year-old watering hole that has been beautifully restored, with brass accents, dark paneling and a graceful wooden staircase to the second-floor dining room. The patrons here are a little older than at Cooper’s Union. The bar is packed, so we take a table along the wall and study the drinks list. There’s a special on mojitos; we order a round of drinks.

(Net-net: We had a drink. WHAT IN THE HELL IS THAT? Your “descriptive” intro to the punchline of what drink you ordered was anti-climactic. The same as saying “I walked into my messy apartment like Robert DeNiro from Taxi Driver like I do every night of my life, the street light gleamed through my half-open window, and I cracked open a Bud Light.”)

lightweight alcoholic bar crawl hitting bars Hoboken NJ

“Epic” lightweight millennial Hoboken bar crawl (continued…)

7:57: Back out on Washington Street and the crowd is picking up. The block between 2nd and 3rd streets is lively. We duck into Black Bear Bar & Grill (205 Washington Street), a two-story sports bar with a frat-house vibe. Upstairs it’s loud and crowded, so we find seats downstairs at the bar. Fifteen TV screens are clustered overhead; the bottom six display a single, giant image. Thursday-night specials include “bomb shots” for $7. I consider a Jagerbomb but opt for vodka and soda. I don’t want to peak too early.

(“Frat House vibe?” You should have seen the place a decade ago. That was a frat house dump! Anyway, glad you can see the “crowd” picking up. Must be mayhem compared to Bloomfield, NJ. Glad you went out on a limb and ordered one single drink after considering a shot. The depth you possess is nearly biblical. In awe we are. Not. But thanks for counting the screens – that certainly helped!)

8:47: It’s just a few doors down to 1-Republik (221 Washington Street), the huge—and I mean huge—dance bar that’s the heart of Hoboken’s weekend party scene. This place thinks big: the menu, the beer list, the array of screens (40, I’m told). Tonight, the jams are blaring from the speakers, but there’s no designated area to dance. Instead, the young crowd gathers around the center bar to take advantage of Thursday night’s special: half-price signature cocktails. It’s time to go all in: I order an extra dirty martini.

(Holy crap. It’s just a bar restaurant. The hype she gave was unjustifiable. She went “all-in” (not knowing anything about Texas-Hold’em Poker) ordering a simple beverage. The drama is unwarranted. And what’s the deal – you can’t count to 40? Had to “be told” how many screens? Geeze!)

9:30: There are plenty of places in Hoboken to continue crawling but my companion and I are ready to wind down. We walk (in somewhat wobbly fashion) toward the chilly Hudson River and our final destination — the Wicked Wolf Tavern (120 Sinatra Drive), a bright and airy spot with tall windows looking out on the water. It’s pleasantly subdued. I take a seat and order a Blue Moon. From the bar, I take in the view of sparkly midtown Manhattan. I make a mental note to return in warmer weather for a drink on the sidewalk patio.

(Ready to wind down after FOUR hours in town? Only up to 2nd Street? What pansies! And Wicked Wolf? That’s like saying you’re “partying hard” at Houlihan’s! She ordered an ordinary beer. And will make a “mental note” to come back some other time. Your life is still incomplete after reading that.)

10:14: We walk back to the terminal and miss the train to Bloomfield by 10 minutes. Hello Uber? Are you there, Uber?

(Sorry to hear your lack of planning caused you to miss your train. What a lame ending to lame story. You kind of get what you deserve. And based on your writing “skills,” I’d guess that you have “bad luck” all the time. Get some character, and learn to live life outside of your apps and smart phone – and you will. Otherwise – well – wash, rinse, and repeat.)

What is wrong with people today? So weak and unopinionated!

Well – the two obvious things going on with this article are:

  1. Is this all this person could muster up? I think my horrific third-grade book reports were better. “I like the book, teacher! It had pages and words!”
  2. And who is the editorial team at NJ Monthly? They actually “approved” this shit? I guess the “experienced elders” at that publication were forced out due to “diversity?”

But beyond the obvious – something else is going on.

pretty lame hoboken bar crawl story horribleSince hardly anyone actually reads books or lengthy articles in reputable magazines these days – this is the byproduct. If you sustain yourself on the Kardashians, tweets, and pithy posts on Facebook, you’re not going to know how to write an engaging social piece on culture. EVER.

You could say her article and choice of content is indicative of her as a person and a writer: generic, uninspiring and void of character. The so-called reporter visited some of the worst, most generic, nothing-to-see-here bars in town. Only a “vibrant” dolt would hang out at those bars.

Whatever group of sickos that have cultivated this generation of literal retards should be burned at the stake. It’s bad for humanity. It’s bad for ALL OF US.

EXPERIENCE is not the same in 2017.

Hoboken Bar Crawl Story

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