Rules of the Bar: Darts
The ultimate drink — and it isn’t even a drink
I’m going to let you in on a little secret post-grad perspective of mine: the only big difference to me between the bars and many a typical college party (aside from the overpriced drinks) is the ratio of who you know to who you don’t know yet. In other words, at college parties we tend to know more people around us than at bars.
And that’s it.
So if you find yourself suffering through the post-grad party-disappointment phase (where it’s Friday night and you find yourself a little reminiscent of your not-so-far-off younger days, where a year or two ago and right around this hour you would be showing up at the frat house with a keg and the boys behind you chanting: USA! USA!), cry no further, but celebrate — for you have entered the next phase of the college shindig universe.
As I stated earlier, the bars can be just like the frat house, except everyone is welcome. And because of this, the bars can be a beautiful and horrendous thing all at once… but they can also be just smelly, sweaty, gross, and intimidating. Sometimes, the security guard looks like he wants to wring your neck out just for showing up, and other times that same security guard is shaking your hand, saying: “You guys are cool. If you have a problem with anyone, you come to me first.”
But there are several rules to achieving the legendary status at the bar equal to the one you might have had back in the day with the boys in Pike. And I have chosen to kick off this series with one of the biggest rules in my opinion: you must master darts.
Dart mastery, however, doesn’t mean win every game. Dart mastery in terms of the bars means to be able to tolerate several iffy games in the presence of others. “Dart mastery” implies more of a “self mastery,” where you find enough confidence in the art of throwing the stick (that’s a phrase I just invented on the spot) to be able to win when you can, and if it ain’t your night, then lose with style. If you can’t win at darts, then lose in a way that still makes all your peers excited about the prospect of losing when it is their turn.
If you happen to be good at darts, however, more power to you; I have a buddy that’s half-decent at throwing the stick, and one girl he was playing darts with dared ask him if he was an Olympic darts player. He said yes, of course, and in his defense… wouldn’t we all?
The point is, darts provides the perfect opportunity to meet people, which is why we ever go to frat parties or bars or grocery stores in the first place. If it wasn’t about interacting with others, then we would all just have our groceries airlifted over to our front doors via drones and never leave the comfort of our tight-knit social circles ever again.
The dartboard is the micro-hub that gives all the people standing idly by upon arrival a larger purpose; it offers the nervous dude in the corner a sword in the stone opportunity… the dartboard is the campfire that we bar-crawling cavemen huddle around for warmth. And whether we win or lose in the grand scheme of things doesn’t really matter, because the real game of darts isn’t about the numbers on the board, but instead about the fires sparking on the floor.
Says the bar-crawling caveman: ooga booga. Now go throw the stick and tell everyone a damn good story.
