With practically every local band performing across 23 stages, how could the Weekly Alibi's annual Spring Crawl be anything but spectacular?
The answer is easy because the Spring Crawl is just that - crawling. You crawl inch-by-inch through any jam-packed bar you can get into. Despite the long waits for beer and music, the Crawl wasn't all bad vibes. There were four outdoor stages where several of the area's best bands performed.
Of course, the swell of people and sensible outdoor volumes made even that an exercise in frustration. So what is a person to do? Drink, and drink well. The following is a firsthand account of a Crawl survivor.
6 p.m.: The Long Goners are opening the night's events on the 5th Street stage. The crowd is surprisingly large. The music sounds good from inside Pearl's Dive where the evening's first libations are being served.
7 p.m.: With a clear head and empty glass, the move is made to The Distillery.
8 p.m.: Music starts but I am nowhere near the source. I'm buried in a pint of Fat-Tire and miles above the reality that is the annual Spring Crawl.
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But the real story is in the crowds. Heavy with stress of school and work, here we are, shoulder to shoulder, lost in our quest for music and booze - neither of which are easy to come by.
8:30 p.m.: Edith Groove is performing and this band can play to a drunken crowd, that's for sure. If it wasn't for the lightness of my wallet, I might have stayed. But this is a night for exploration.
9:30 p.m.: The last hour is a loss. Somehow I make it into Burt's Tiki Lounge, which is a great place to get lost. My pencil has vanished so I jot some notes with an eyeliner pencil I find. It's blue.
I'm not sure if this band is Unit 7 Drain or 12 Step Rebels and all I can hear is a group of girls shrieking to each other as if the only source of entertainment for us all is the enlightening topic of what they did last week.
It must be the bass that's giving me these horrible feelings of nausea. The next report will either be from the gutter or the sidewalk. The difference is profound.
9:45 p.m.: All I needed was air, the cigarette smoke was molesting my lungs. I have to try and find a new place to go. One of my favorite local bands, Follow, is playing at Banana Joe's in a couple hours.
Sadly, the Crawl is not a place for spontaneity. All drunken ideas must be checked at the door in favor of militarily precise planning. If you want to see a band that plays at 9 p.m., you need to be in line at 7 p.m. That's the harsh reality of the situation.
10:15 p.m.: Line.
11 p.m.: Same line.
11:30 p.m.: Yep, still here, and silently thanking the Alibi for giving me a pass - $15 is way too much to pay for this ride.
11:31 p.m.: Over an hour in line for 20 feet of progress had stretched my patience. It's off to the Martini Grill to finish the night.
The Weekly Alibi's Spring Crawl was a mixture of positive and negative experiences - most of them drunk. Thanks to whoever dropped their eyeliner - this article wouldn't have been possible without you.
