by Jerry Schutjer
As a common frequenter of Newnan’s best bar that serves pizza, The Alamo, I am a self-proclaimed expert on what newcomers should expect if they are looking to experience some of the underrated small town night life that Newnan has to offer. This is what a typical Friday or Saturday night may look like.
6:00 pm- If you’re looking for the early-bird variety of entertainment and socialization, the dinner crowd at the Alamo is an interesting mix of jaded regulars- who have been there since noon- and families looking to share a nice meal of pizza and garlic knots, both which are highly recommended. This is not a good time to start picking up any romantic interests, but you can start establishing rapport with the staff and getting familiar with the ebb and flow of the bathroom traffic.
7:30 pm- This is prime time to use the facilities. The lunch-dinner regulars are starting to stumble out at this time and the crowds of Newnan Night Lifers have yet to flood in. This will be the last time the bathrooms will be this clean (barring an emergency event that requires an immediate thorough mopping). Plan accordingly. Familiarize yourself with the path to the bathroom. Trust me on this one.
9:00 pm- In order to get the true Alamo experience, wait till the crowds really start packing it in to get your next round of drinks. Sure, you could wait in the modest line to order like a civilized drinker with class, but it’s far more rewarding to have to shove yourself through the sea of sweaty flesh and yell at the bartender over the loud music your preferred recipes of intoxication. Once that drink comes, you’ll feel far more accomplished. Pro Tip: Shouting your life story to the bartender is not a good way to make friends. Don’t do that.
10:00 pm- Visit the bathroom. Not because you have to, but because something of interest might be going on in there around this time. And you will definitely want to re-familiarize yourself with the path to the bathroom as more people are filtering in. Avoid the splash zones. You’ll notice the crowds are increasing, but with each drink, you’re less and less concerned and more appreciative of the opportunity to make new friends. Or “friends”, you sly fox.
11:00 pm- The newlyweds and their wedding parties are really throwing them back. You’ve hopefully learned their names because you’ll never see any of them again. Their Ubers are on the way. The crowds are still going strong.
12:00 am- The bar down the street stopped playing music because of a man simply known as “The Dentist” (that’s a story for another day) so they’re closing up and those crowds are coming in to replace the newlyweds. All the locals and regulars are outside smoking because “it’s too loud in there”. The dance floor is full of folks bumping and grinding and bumping and grinding. Avoid them. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. My tolerance for bumps and grinds is very low.
12:30 am- Watch as more Ubers pull out and drunken women try to get their even drunker partners to get into the vehicles. A fight will probably break out. The bearded, surly manager who’s a former Marine and body builder will talk sternly to someone and stare them down as they leave the premises, with his burly arms folded across his burly chest. The bald, surly bouncer who looks like an MMA fighter has less quieter ways of kicking folks out and if you’re lucky you might see him roundhouse kick a guy into traffic. That’s never happened, but it’d be super cool if it did. Don’t piss either of them off.
1:00 am- The music is still bumping. Loudly. The people are still bumping. Loudly. You need to use the bathroom. Loudly. Fortunately, due to your earlier reconnaissance efforts, the path there is familiar as you squeeze your way there. Somebody has tripped down the stairs. They did not do the recon. However, upon leaving the bathroom, you realize your aim is much better sober. You didn’t avoid your own splash zone.
2:00 am- The music has stopped at some point, but people are still dancing. All the lights are on. People are being ushered towards the door. A guy named Thaddeus or Brandon or something is trying to convince the bartender to give him another drink. A seminar on “Last Call” is now in session. Neither the bartender or Thandon are enjoying it. Branddeus’ girlfriend is passed out over one of his beefy shoulders muttering the word “Lyft” over and over. She seems nice. Don’t try to make friends with her though. That’s inappropriate, I’ve been told. Avoid her splash zone.
2:15 am- Close out your tab if you haven’t already (you should have, but you didn’t, newbie). Tip generously. Now’s the time to tell your life story to the bartenders. They will ignore it as they’re cleaning up. They’re not-so-secretly wondering why you haven’t left yet. The short bearded bartender will probably ask you why you haven’t left yet with a dose of heavy smarm dripping off his smarmy (yet glorious) beard. The surly bouncer and equally surly manager are eyeballing you, but let’s face it, you’re incredibly harmless. You’ve been there for over 8 hours at this point. You clearly need the socialization. If they could feel anything beneath their surly burly glares, it’d only be pity.
3:00 am- You’re on the bench under the marquee. You don’t know how you got there. The doors are locked. There are nearly a dozen people equally confused why they’re outside. Someone says “Waffle House” and laughs. It sounds like a good idea. So does walking down to the fountain. You wonder if Waffle House has a fountain. You say “Fountain House”. You’re the only one who laughs. You puke.
3:01 am- You’re crying because you puked. A nice guy sits next to you. He also pukes. And starts crying. You say “Fountain Thandon” and laugh. No one else does. You puke again.
3:25 am- You’re in the back of a stranger’s car. You don’t know how you got there. You finish telling your life story- the one you started with the uninterested bartenders. The driver is equally uninterested. He doesn’t say much. You blink slowly and…
3:45 am- You’re in your bed. Your phone is asking if you want to tip your driver. You laugh out loud at the irony of how your mom told you never to get into cars with strangers, but now you pay strangers to take you home. You promptly forget about that realization as you suddenly notice how fast the room is spinning. You can’t make it stop. You quickly run into the bathroom. AVOID THE SPLASH ZONE. And tip your driver.
11:30 am- You don’t remember much about the night before, but the wristband hanging on for dear life on your hand looks like you had fun. You puke again, but it tastes only of nostalgia. Do not look at your bank account until the hangover goes away. Trust me.
This guide is incredibly accurate per my personal encounters, though your individual experience may vary slightly. If you see me, remember not to bump or grind me due to my intolerance of bumping and grinding, but I will gladly drink any shots of Fireball you buy me. AND TIP YOUR BARTENDERS!
Newnan Time with Harold 