Pubcrawling Phoenix

An Easter pubcrawl through Downtown Mesa

This was my first ever time to Phoenix. I’d driven around it before on my way from Salton Sea to Tucson and all I could remember was the horrific traffic. Fast forward one year later, and I’m spending my Easter weekend here. Not by choice as I inadvertently signed up to work the Breakaway festival over the weekend so while Cutie and I were in Phoenix for a total of three days, two didn’t count on account of work. I decided to take the extra day to explore Phoenix and check out some highlights. It just so happened that this particular Sunday was Easter and EVERYTHING WAS FUCKING CLOSED.

In Vegas, Easter means nothing. Everything is still running like it’s any other day. But evidently in other cities, that just isn’t the case. I’d planned to drive up to Goldfield ghost town (not to be confused with Nevada’s own Goldfield ghost town) but that was closed. The museums and botanical gardens, also closed. So I headed for Old Town Scottsdale just to walk around. However, I was surprised to find that all the restaurants and retail stores there were also closed. I popped into Four Peaks Roc Bar for a beer and some awful service while I looked on my maps to decide what was next. Eventually I landed on a few breweries a couple miles from the trailer, walking distance if need be. It was still really early and if my day was going to be filled with drinking, might as well go for the gusto. I called Oro Brewing company first and yep, they were open. Next I rang up Chupacabra Taproom but got nothing. One was better than none so I dropped off the mutt and headed that way.

Once I got down there, I realized I was downtown. The tram ran through the center of the main street, bars and restaurants littering either side of the road, all open for Easter enjoyment. I mean what else are adults supposed to do on our Lord and Savior’s day of resurrection but get shithoused while our kids search for plastic eggs full of candy? I park near a biergarten across the street from my first stop. I pop across the street to Oro Brewing Company and am surprised to see a very small shop in a row of businesses with a little patio area out front. It’s sandwiched between a fried chicken joint and a farmer’s market. Although the streets are pretty empty, Oro Brewing is not and I’m lucky to grab the last barstool. Once I sat down and oriented myself to the handwritten menu, I was totally fucking lost. Yes, I can read but there’s something about chalked outlined letters and shit all over the walls that gets me frazzled. I landed on the first bitch beer I could find, a sour child series called “Her Purple Legion” (very reasonable at $5.60). The bartender was friendly and had my chalice in front of me before I could finish scanning all the choices. The vibe was “trendy” meets home grown. Very relaxed. There was a mix of old guys at the end of the bartop reminiscing about the good old days while Tennessee Whiskey played overheard. Next to me was some vapid Gen Z in a flannel sipping the strongest IPA they had on draft, her dog getting trampled on as she stared at her phone screen. In retrospect, this ended up being the best beer and the best service I would receive in all of my time in Phoenix, but I pressed on.

I exited Oro Brewing and walked down to the light where I’d seen a bright orange trifold and wouldn’t you know, it was for the Chupacabra Taproom, the very same place I’d been calling all morning to no avail. And just a block from the other brewery, talk about convenient. Chupacabra was in a free standing building one block down. It had a brick facade with an adorable covered patio area. Inside was totally renovated, or made to look that way, with digital rolling menus and sleek stainless and black finishes. The place immediately smelled of mustache oil and IPAs. This place had a huge selection of drafts, 32 to be exact, not including those annoying twirling icee lookalike machines we used to drink in a yardstick when we were in our twenties. Public Enemy was playing on the radio and the bartender, very hot bartender, stood in the corner on his phone swiping right into a fuck sesh later. I ordered a Coronado Guava Cider ($7.75). Why? Because there was too large a selection of bitch beers for me to choose from. I made an uneducated decision and I was wrong. Too heavy, too sweet, like drinking syrup. I powered it down and was back to the streets.

The next place I stumbled into was the Phantom Fox. The first place was too small and the second was too trendy but this seemed to be just right. It had a large bartop that wrapped around and wasn’t so busy I was forced to sit in someone’s lap. I tried a banana daquiri wheat from Bacoo that smelled and tasted exactly like I thought it would but settled on the Devil’s Lament pom and blood orange sour ($7.75). I hadn’t immediately noticed the huge pizza kitchen to the right of the building but after I sat down and order my third beer in 30 minutes (not including the Longdrinks for breakfast), I thought maybe a pizza didn’t sound so bad. Just drunk enough to try something interesting, I walked over and stood in line to get the Cauliflower and Olives pizza. After psyching myself up for ten minutes, I was disappointed to learn the last pizza skin was sold to the dude before me but they still had hummus. I sat back down to never be regarded by the staff again as they stood at the other end of the bar and talked to one another. At this point I wondered if the posted price of the drinks at all of these establishments forfeited the bar staff from having to interact or particiapte in any kind of customert service besides pouring the beer. I slapped a ten down and took off.

I crossed the street to Arizona Distilling Co, knowing damn well I was in no condition to imbibe liquor. Five beers deep was no time to decide if distilled spirits were in my future. Perusing the menu at the front, I did see something that sparked my interest: a Michelada! I put my hand on the door handle, began to pull, but abandoned it just as fast. I was more than tipsy. I was borderline shithoused and I wasn’t too sure I wanted to waste my last drink (becuase I was clearly about to be on my last drink) on an untested Miche. Nah, maybe next time. I instead stumble back over to the biergarten where it all began, the beginning of this circle. There was a huge grass area and people playing cornhole. Very indoor/outdoor vibe that I liked. I sat at the bartop and ordered, something I could neither now describe nor recall since I didn’t take any notes. I don’t know how long I was there or if I ate. What I know is I ended up back at the trailer while the sun was still up and passed out face down, mouth open on the couch only to wake up in the dark, smashing what was left of my breakfast croissants.