50 things every man should do in a bar... at least once

Our time is short on this mortal coil, and it's filled with many things to do before we die. There are foreign lands to visit, and countless foods to eat. But let's face it: you're spending a lot of time in a bar. But that doesn't mean your days spent drinking in the dark are days without goals. These are the 50 things every man should do in a bar, at least once. Because, as the old proverb goes, "Every man dies, but not every man really eats a four-year-old pickled egg."

Bonus points if there are more than three people in said bar.
 

About that time you rescued a family from a burning bus, or something similarly steeped in heroism, valor, and acts of extreme bravery.
 

About that time you rescued Brad, Angelina, and Shiloh from a burning Zeppelin, perhaps. Or Led Zeppelin from a burning silo. Or maybe something more realistic... like saving Andy Dick from getting hit by a bus.
 

And keep it down for at least an hour.
 

A delicious one. And order it at least one time per visit.

... for doing something that merits getting a black eye. Like defending somebody's honor.
 

... to somebody who absolutely deserves it. In self defense, of course.
 

And maybe figure it out.
 

A shot of 151 if you need to. A full cocktail if they have it.
 

Then never play again. Walk away a winner. Buy a round for your table if it's over $100.

... because gentlemen can put things in their pasts. And because you totally deserved it.
 

But don't act on it. That's how you get punched.
 

... in one of the remaining cigar bars that allows it.
 

It might take three hours, but you'll be extremely proud once you finally hit that bullseye.
 

With friends, of course. Or strangers who have become your friends. If it's good whiskey, you'll make them quickly.

But only when you're in college, or if it's something that makes you nostalgic for college. If it's the latter, you must tip extra, because you're a grown-up now and can afford a glass.
 

The one with the boobs and the one with the dongs.
 

For eight straight hours, while sending emails with health updates.
 

One that stays behind the bar with your name on it.
 

One where people get up and cede it to you when you show up.
 

You like a good time. Call and see what happens!

Bonus points if it's the Sunday Times, you smartypants.
 

Being a hell of a tipper makes you a bartender's favorite customer. Doing it anonymously makes you karma's favorite lush.
 

Rationalize why you're stiffing somebody, but don't be a prick about it. Explain that the drinks were wrong, the service was rude, whatever. Then expect to not be welcomed back.
 

Just like George Thorogood intended.
 

Perhaps fleetingly, but with all of your heart.
 

The heart is a fickle thing. Especially when there's whiskey involved.

And don't you dare lose them. Or catch them on fire.
 

Play "Milkshake" once, then leave the rest of the credits for somebody else to find. Hopefully someone who also loves Kelis.
 

Probably fried clam strips. Definitely not "sushi".
 

With the staff. Not with the Russian mafia. Rounders is, above all, a cautionary tale.
 

In fact, just leave the phone at home. If women never talked to strangers in bars, you probably wouldn't have been born.
 

And make sure to keep said bar stocked with Milk-Bones.

... with your words, not your ninja skills.
 

Publicly and passionately. Or in a photo booth. Then destroy the evidence.
 

Do not include your number.
 

Give up your table to a bachelorette party. And don't expect anything in return. That's not chivalry.
 

Sit and talk with him for a while, too. Dude's probably lonely, and probably saved Andy Dick from being hit by a bus once, so he's got stories to tell. Wish him well and mean it.

Make it universally appealing, and take the opportunity to teach people a foreign phrase. Preferably a real one. In Gaelic.
 

They've got an emergency and a room full of patrons. You've got minimal experience but maximum moxie. You've got their back!
 

Whether it's touch football or slow-pitch, no-strike-out softball. Be at every game, and play to win.
 

I mean, you hit the winning run against Joe's Cellar. You're practically family. And a kick-ass secret Santa, to boot.

And make sure those winnings include a beer and a frustrated opponent.
 

It's the responsible thing to do... and you owe your friend who drove you through the Taco Bell drive-thru at 3am last week.
 

Spend a whole night drinking gin and hearing incredible war stories told in a charming accent.
 

Whether it's the NBA finals or the Little League World Series, make sure you're watching in a crowded room that stinks of pride and Old Crow.

Because you don't give a good goddamn what anyone thinks.

Bonus points if the bar has no karaoke. And if the song is "Milkshake".

"I'm really sorry, man, but I have to ask you to leave," he will say, knowing you're a good guy. Leave without incident, but only after you tip the bartender and apologize.

And thank him for letting you do all this stuff in his bar. And for not giving you a black eye.

Andy Kryza is a senior editor on Thrillist's food & drink team, and would like to thank Binks in Portland for letting him shoot these photos on a lazy Friday. He's also sorry for any missing pint glasses. Follow him to completely true stories of valor via @apkryza.