CORONA

Most have tried it, many of you think its cool. But what are you really saying about yourself when you purchase one of Mexico's most staple offerings?

 

LET US EXAMINE the applications of the Corona in the modern bar environment.

Everyone knows it, it’s not Carlton Draught and you might even fool your mate (or your date) into thinking that you have good taste.

For this reason, Corona is one of the few safety beers that exist in most bars today.

Think of a dance floor. When you’re dancing to the beat of your favourite club anthem and your throwing punches and digging holes, there’s always a dance that you will revert to when the bass cuts out. That is called the safety dance.

For the most part, clever marketing and public awareness have ensured that Corona remains on the tip of everyone’s tongue when they consider drinking a premium international beer at a bar.

However, it should be known that Corona is a drink that should be consumed in large quantities. As it has little depth of flavour and visibly resembles urine (and some would argue tastes like), it excels on hot summer days and demands the company of many more Coronas.

For this reason, cases run upwards of $50 dollars at your local Dan Murphys. The company is aware of its appeal to the everyman and that once consumed there will be an unrelenting need for more.

Corona is traditionally served with lime, which gives it the sophisticated edge that it needs to remain ‘outside the square’ of traditional beer drinking practise.

People come up with all sorts of explanations to explain this. The most popular of folk-lore indicates that Mexican drinkers do it to keep the flies out of their beer. Massive props to the Corona team for having cornered the native insect market also. But that raises the question; what about fruit flies?

In any case, I believe the addition of a lime wedge makes the beer go flat very quickly, and that also makes it taste like lime; which is apparently better than a plain Corona, or so the Mexicans would have us believe.

Weighing in at 4.6% Alcohol per volume, Corona Extra (as it is officially known) rates fairly decent on the scale of; ‘ease of consumption vs. maximum inebriation level.

It’s just so easy to drink.

And while beer connoisseurs and bartenders generally avoid it in favor of other, more satisfying lagers, you can't help but applaud its perseverance. Reliable, golden... and it tastes kinda like bitter water. 

Corona, always a safe choice for a sunny day, or when one knows of nothing else.

fuk

We shall call it; 'Wayne Regretsky'

Junkies: A love hate relationship

So there I was, awaiting the onslaught of the footy aftermath, and the fantastical failure of a final it was, when I am approached by a small woman missing her two front teeth.

Alliteration aside, I am reminded once more that life, and everything in, around and associated with it... is simply ridiculous.

"One Beer please", squawks the little commission dwelling creature.

"That'll be six dollars thanks" I say, or something to that effect.

"Six dollars", she retorts; "but I only have four!"

(awkward silence)

It should be noted that the concept of capitalism, and our lovely system of trade requiring 'capital' to be exchanged for goods and services permits me to reject the goodwill of said junkie, who in offering me financial capital, has failed to see the underwhelming connotations behind her monetary offering.

"Yeah sorry, Becks is normally 3.50 a schooner but that's just for Happy Hour, which is every day from 4 till 8pm. But that finished about 45mins ago. Sorry."

"Oh, ok. But can I get a becks on happy hour?"

"Yeahhhh.... You see Happy hour runs from 4- 8pm. It's on every day so you have 28 hrs a week of cheap drinks. But I'm afraid now the price is six dollars"

"Well, do you mind if I borrow two dollars? Or I could just ask someone here for two dollars!"

"I really don't think its appropriate I'm sorry."

"Let me just ask someone to see if they have a spare two dollars"

"You know what, don't worry about it"

I oblidged.

Junkie :1

Salts:0

Now, in most cases the brutal nature of myself as a bartender would happily see the denying of alcohol to someone of this caliber as a small victory for society. However, the nature of said junkie, being in her 40s, perhaps slightly brain dead from years of drug an alcohol abuse, and missing her prized front chompers, struck a chord with me. Surrounded by heavy applications of eye liner, the lonely, vacant look in her eyes cried out for company... or was it meth?

Clearly in this instance, the decision to allow a discounted beer prevented little miss methadone from approaching the other customers in the venue. There was greater utilty in this measure as a preventative one. At least, she would only be able to afford one beer, and would be gone soon.
I think it began to look more along the lines of;

Junkie: 1

Salts: 1

I watched as she awkwardly tried to mingle with various social groups, staring at the ceiling and inspiring me to write about ridiculous things. Her return visits to the bar requesting water led us into extra time, and she returned to the fray still clutching the same initial beer yet to be consumed over the course of an hour. Then, while I engaged in other bar-like activities, she had disappeared. No longer seated atop the deep maroon ottoman she was perverting.

Junkie: 1

Salts: 2

Despite extra time, and a minor victory for society, I am certain that this game of cat and junkie will be repeated next week.

Day: Sunday
Time: 8:30 am
Location: chapel street
players: big issue seller, regular customer at RT's, party animal.

Its Sunday morning on chapel street, and as you may know this is an interesting time on the strip. Cafes are buzzing, tourists and families are feening for a good breaky and a ripper latte. Whilst many others are still feening from the night before.

Party animals that have had a ripper night are beginning the walk of shame. Having to conquer two flights of stairs, without tumbling down them. (Maybe revolver should do something about that.) and then trying to make it all the way to their abode without anyone sighting them.

RT’’s was pretty busy, families spanning across all of the tables. As per normal customers eating breakfast are observing party goers in discuss, but don’t dare say anything. Although this particular morning a party animal is racing, and takes it upon himself to mouth off to the peaceful man selling the big issue, a regular customer at RT’s has observed this occurring and takes matters into his own hands….


And belts the daylight out of the party animal. Why didn’t he just put his head down and made the walk of shame back to his abode, every one else has to.

Just a side note: the man who sells the big issue on chapel street is a absolute legend, please buy the magazine, it makes for a good coffee table mag.

And the Darwin award goes to...

Old mate from the U.K. over the weekend who ordered tequila slammers, grabbed the shots with his hands and picked up the salt with his mouth.

Next time how bout you just start spitting in peoples drinks cause it would save me the trouble of having to throw it out and buy a new one.

...as the dust settles