Dear João,
My 21st birthday is approaching and I have up until this point refrained from going out drinking. I have heard the debates about whether the Pub or the Burren is better and I am unsure what to make of it all. I want my first night out drinking to be a magical one (and maybe even find a lady!), so I was hoping you could help me decide between the two
—Newly-Legal Student, Off Campus
Dear Aspiring Alcoholic: Be filled with the spirit, for I have solved this quandary for you. As part of my commitment to my dedicated readers, I pilgrimaged to the Pub and the Burren to declare which is the most virtuous. Here are my findings:
The Pub:
As I walked through the valley of the shadow of Ball Square, I was greeted by the titillating decor of the Pub. Whether it was the foosball table in the front, the D3 football jerseys framed on the wall, or the disgruntled middle-aged men groaning about their wives while watching March Madness, there was much to appreciate at this location. I struck up a conversation with a junior at the bar, Francis, who claimed that the SHR sex toys were the reason why he couldn’t get a girlfriend. You never know where you will find your next lead for a Tribune investigation!
The 50-cent buffalo wings at this establishment were to die for! I only ate 48 because it’s Lent, but I was gnawing and spitting on those things like my favorite meat enthusiast, Haliey Welch. While the wings and conversations with drunkard men were pleasant, the Pub lacked the intersex fellowship you pray for.
The Burren:
As I journeyed into the belly of the beast on Elm Street, I was a little nervous to irrupt the vermilion-shaded alehouse. To truly experience the Burren, I donned my favorite suit and dyed my hair orange in solidarity with our Irish brothers (not pictured because the photo doesn’t extend below the waist).
I had recently seen a TikTok lauding the Burren as a fortuitous bar in Boston to find a concubine, so I loitered with bated breath for my love at first sight to arrive. You’ll be pleased to hear that there were many girls at this bar, but I didn’t strike up any conversations with them for a number of reasons. Firstly, I had important business on my phone to attend to, and secondly, I am saving myself for a special kind of woman: a 6’4” Goth Pilgrim who is into the finer things in life, such as mud baths and medical marijuana.
While the environment at the Burren was indeed exuberant, it was overcrowded and lacked space for intimate conversations and meditation.
Results?:
While there was much to admire about both the Pub and the Burren, a thorough investigation would be incomplete without visiting a third, unsung establishment. This hidden gem has all that one could ever desire: an array of small bites including soft pretzels, sliders, nachos, wings and tacos; a robot erotically delivering food; a wide selection of drinks including local craft beers, ciders, hard seltzer, and a selection of wine; an intimate, dim lit environment with comfortable seating, and a beautiful, high ceiling. The empyrean I speak of even closes at 9:30 p.m., so you can make it home for nightly prayer. I am, of course, referring to the Pop-up Pub at Hotung Café.
I went to the Pop-up Pub (or as I call it, the PP) seeking to get a little tipsy and meet a new boon companion, but I left with something much greater: self-discovery. When I arrived at the PP, I was surprised that I was the only person at such an elegant establishment. I ordered a drink, sat in the corner, and patiently waited for others to arrive. As the hours passed, one drink became two, then four, then six. I began to see the phantasms of faces in the pub and felt a calling to the dance floor.
I became immersed in my gyrating craft. Seven idle PP workers stared at me as I mounted a table. I think the staff took issue with my Burlesque-worthy performance because I was in the backseat of a TUPD vehicle with Pepper the Dog shortly after. The officer dropped me off at Wilson House and breathalyzed me, appearing befuddled when I blew a 0.0. I guess I was served the wrong drink.
I’ll leave you with this: Go to the Tufts Pop-Up Pub. Get the pretzels and sliders. Have a cold drink at 5 o’clock in a mostly empty bar. Have two. Dance on the open floor. Bob your head to Clairo. Be open to a solipsistic world. Check in on your friends. Check in on yourself. Enjoy the ride.
Photo by Stanley Spence
