On Friday the clouds moved in as we dug into breakfast at that most Southern of institutions, the Waffle House. Despite a couple near-brawls between the head cook and the head waitress over who was responsible for getting a new crate of eggs out of the fridge, we made it out of there alive and headed downtown. We were headed for the main bar area downtown, a highly fabricated "mall" of bars that might as well be in anytown USA, when it really started pouring so we ducked into the Louisville Visitors Bureau where we learned all about Colonel Sanders and Bourbon, while Ells just pointed at the Colonel's junk:
After learning way more than we needed to know about the Colonel, we rolled over to the bars and settled on bowling at Lucky Strike, mainly because they had the best-looking waitresses of any place there. After a few games and few drinks, we made what we would come to realize was the most pivotal decision of the day. Should we keep our good spot at Lucky Strike, albeit in shorts and flip flops, and extend our buzz through the rest of the night, OR should we return to the hotel, get dressed a bit more appropriately and return when the concert and nightlife were in full swing?
Being old men and pussies, we chose option #2, which unfortunately took the wind out of our sails just a bit too much. We didn't make it back to the mall of bars until it was a total cluster of people and rain, leaving very little space to get into any of the decent bars without paying $25 cover. After a few drinks at the outside bar and a few lame songs from the Goo Goo Dolls, we headed for a local sports bar to watch the Sharks-Stars game, and give us a bit of a rest in anticipation of Derby Day.
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