On today's episode of the United States of Frat we discuss the birth of the road trip scavenger hunt, Pennsylvania fake IDs and the merits of hooking up on a couch. If you are into that kinda thing, read on. If not, have fun folding laundry this weekend.
University of Wisconsin*: The Red Shed
*You don't have to indicate Madison because anyone that went to a satellite school should be ashamed and not reading this blog.
Yelp Score: 3 stars!
Joe W has this to say.
Terrible Bar. Smells like a dirty locker room. The bar tenders are rude. The drinks are terrible and when you ask for a new one they call you a drunk and argue with you about it. Bathrooms are the most disgusting room I have ever been in. If you go there do not use them. Only good thing is that music isn't overly loud.Hey at least you get to leave the ear plugs at home!
Chris W thinks they hate the gays!
I for one do not find it rude to wait on a cute blonde, it certainly isn't her fault that she was born that way.
Ugh. Cesspool of a college bar, the only place at which I was ever, as far as I can tell, overtly discriminated against on the basis of (perceived) sexual orientation.
I stopped in for a quick happy hour drink with two friends, one a lesbian, one bisexual; all three of us "look" non-heterosexual to a certain extent. Anyway, we paid for this; the old guy tending bar pointedly ignored us, at one point literally ignoring our polite "Excuse me"s to wait on a cute blonde in the OTHERWISE EMPTY BAR.
I am not eager to ever return.
Rachel has thoughts on the straw allotment...
Worst customer service ever! My fiance took 2 straws to put in my drink and this dumb bartender kicks him out for no reason! Worst customer service and bartender with the bald head and glasses ever! I highly do not recommend this place. There's better places that can gladly take your business
Perhaps they just don't like dudes that drink from straws, I was once kicked out of a Dublin Bar for that very infraction.
A truly confounding review from Dana
DO NOT GO HERE..
Ok, I warned you. Good thing you blacked out for the broken glass in the toilets, the sinks that turn into urinals, etc etc.
But wasn't the foosball game you played at 1 am a lot of fun?
And aren't you still trying to figure out what were in those mason jars? No, they were definitely bigger than pints jars. Those were quart jars.... And your hangover is bad enough that you may never go near those tomatoes you canned last summer.
There is a covered wagon, oregon-trail-style, over the door. Real Western. Ever seen hbo's deadwood? You're lucky to leave deadwood's tavern alive. Same goes for the red shed.
DO NOT GO HERE.
(I can't wait to go back)
And lastly JR wants to comment on some air flow issues.
The entire place smells like a bathroom. If they could remedy that with a constant flow of fresh oxygen, then one's mind could open to discover the joys of bar games and mason jar long islands.
Let me take you back to a simpler time. October 27, 2007. A Republican was in the White House, Crank That Souljah Boy was the number one song in America and I was yet to have sex with a person of color.
Apparently at some point the previous evening I had agreed to road trip to Madison with some Delts, so when they pulled up to my fraternity house the next morning, the only 'Halloween' costume I could come up with was some pink pants and a pink sweater vest. I called it 'a golfer' but really that's just what I wore every day.
Somewhere along I39 (the world's worst freeway) we decided to pull over and get some 40's for the road as this was a pre Four Loko world. About two 40's in we decided that seating in the car on the way home would be determined by weekend performance. As a sort of measuring stick we developed an extremely complicated scavenger hunt, awarding points for feats of fratitude such as having sex with a hot chick or leaving an upper decker deuce in a stranger's toilet.
It was a magical weekend insomuch as it was the only time I have talked so much shit at a sporting event that it led to management moving me to a better section 'for my safety.' IU was massacred that day 33-3 but instead of calling it a day, I decided to triple down on my partying. It was the Saturday night of Halloween and I was down in the standings.
After a few hours of bar crawling I realized I had been separated from my friends. I had already lost two fake IDs that weekend and was down to one atrocious Pennsylvania ID. I stopped a stranger on the street and asked...
'Hey man, I've already had two IDs jacked this weekend, where can I absolutely get in and get shit faced?'
He did a double take on me and I felt like I recognized him.
'Are you staying at Brian's place? Come with us, we're going to Red Shed it's going to be great.'
I follow this guy and we march straight into a frat boy's wet dream. People are chugging pitchers of Long Island Iced Tea and there are at least 5 white dudes doing the Souljah Boy dance (I told you it was the number one song!) We walk toward the bar and order 5 Long Island pitchers. I realize there are only four of us present.
'Who is the fifth for?'
'The loser. This is a horse race, we are going to chug these and whoever finishes last has to chug this one AND get our next round.'
I finish second in that race and about three more. By the time I have explained the rules of the scavenger hunt to the guys, I can barely stand.
'Ok, we're going to play one game of foosball and then we're going to walk over to that dance floor and get you some points.'
I don't remember how sticky the floor was that night, I don't remember if I won or lost the foosball, but I definitely remember how I woke up.
"What do we have here?"
I'm laying on a couch in full costume, I am spooning with a girl and my hand is precariously up her shirt. Somehow I have made it back to where I am supposed to be. I am still in full 'golf' costume, my hand is up the shirt of a sexy nurse. (Sexy costumes were still cool in 2007) I am looking up at my three comrades from the road trip.
I realize aforementioned nurse is awake now and staring at me and my hand. Horrified, I recoil my hand.
"What happened here?" I sheepishly ask the nurse.
"Well you were blacked out and we were cuddling on this couch and we made out a little bit. At some point in the night you must have put your hand up my shirt. I didn't mind so I just kinda rolled with it."
"Get up Moeller, fourth place. You're driving."
Keys are tossed in my direction, I still don't know the nurse's name.
'Wait a second.' It's another one of my buddies. 'Miss nurse, would you consider what transpired last night a 'hook up?'
There is a tense silence surrounding the room.
'I mean we didn't have sex, but I'll probably write his name down in my hook up journal. (To me) what's your name?'
The person that tossed me the keys throws his hands up in the air.
'It doesn't matter, a hook up is only 20 points, Dave is still in last.'
'But she's in her costume, that's a 2x multiplier.'
'Ok fine, 40 points. He gets to ride in the back.'
I look at the nurse and I look at a picture on the wall.
'Wait, do you live here?'
'Ya, I live on this floor and your buddy Brian lives in the basement. Why?'
I look at my buddies, 'Go back to her place, an additional 3x multiplier. 20*2*3 is 120. I win.'
I grab the unnamed nurse by the face and kissed her on the lips.
"Thank you, my name is David Moeller, and I owe the next 7 hours of my life to you."
I rode shotgun the whole way back to Bloomington and slept the whole time, it is still the greatest fourth quarter comeback in my life to date. I never found out her name.