Did Anyone Get the Number of That Truck?

It turned out that 13 or 14 bars in one night was perhaps just a tad ambitious, or at least so I thought when I awoke the next morning, still in my clothing from the night before, my head pounding as though the percussion section of a large orchestra was practicing between my ears, and a mouth as dry as the Gobi. The less said about the condition of my stomach, the better, except to say that I sincerely hoped the Piermont had a good cleaning crew.

Still, I'm a trouper.

After leaving Piermont Landing in a somewhat disheveled condition, I made my way to the next stop, the Rusty Nut.

 
The Rusty Nut, Wheatstone Waterways

The Sneaky Vole was en route, but didn't seem to be part of the pub crawl proper. Still, it seemed bad manners not to make a quick stop for a bottle of ale.


The Sneaky Vole, Babbage Canals


From there, it was just a hop, skip, and jump (or, more properly, a hic, stumble, and fall) to Ruby's, Cafe de Paris, Loki Absinthe, the Red Cat (where I was served a bottle of water, of all things), and, at last, the Rusty Cog for one last nip.


Ruby's, Babbage Canals



Cafe de Paris, Babbage Canals



Loki Absinthe, Babbage Square


Now that I'm done with the pub crawl, my feet are killing me and I have a greater appreciation for the thirst of Babbagers. Please excuse me while I find the Tamrannoch sanitarium and dry out for about a month.