Party on Pittsburgh, and love them Steelers

I would like to make an important announcement: This will be my
last Daily Bruin music column. Starting next quarter, I will have a
new Monday column about my other favorite subject ““
television. I will be succeeded by music editor David Greenwald and
his pretentious opinions on obscure topics. He’s like me,
just less angry (maybe).

With that said, I’m changing things up this week. Jess
Rodgers has spent the year writing about hitting the bars and
getting “crizzunked,” for lack of a better term.
I’ve held off and let her have her fun without interjecting
my thoughts.

However, a recent trip to Pittsburgh, coupled with the fact that
I know from experience I can drink Rodgers under the table, changed
my mind. So I would like to enlighten you about something.

The nightlife in Pittsburgh is out of control. In fact, I would
go so far as to say that the bar scene on the South Side of
Pittsburgh makes not just Westwood, but the Greater Los Angeles
area as a whole, look like an Amish town.

I was born in Pittsburgh and spent the first few years of my
life there, and in the past I have been hard on the town. Of
course, the city isn’t perfect. The town is obsessed with the
Steelers to a frightening extent, the “Pittsburgh
accent” is one of the worst in the entire country, and I
don’t think I’ve ever seen the sun come out. Being 21,
however, I was able to take full advantage of the South Side
bars.

For those who have been to Maloney’s, imagine the craziest
night you’ve ever seen. Now imagine at least five other bars
exactly like this on Gayley Avenue. Now, picture this situation
taking place on every block all the way down to Wilshire Boulevard.
Finally, imagine that this insanity goes on past Wilshire until
nearly the Westside Pavilion.

It’s natural for someone from a large city such as New
York or Los Angeles to think they’re more hip or with it when
visiting a smaller city like Pittsburgh, and I’ve been guilty
of this before. But on this trip, I really learned a lesson in
humility.

I was in a bar called The Locker Room, owned by Steelers’
receiver Hines Ward, when I started talking to a group of college
girls from Pittsburgh. That day had been the city’s annual
“St. Patty’s Day” parade in which people start
drinking early in the morning and march in a parade through the
South Side, stumbling around drunk for 24 hours. For this reason,
everyone was wearing green beads. I had the following exchange with
this group of girls.

The girls asked me where I was going after The Locker Room, and
I replied I wasn’t sure. One suggested I come with them to
Casey’s, because that’s where, in her words,
“they’ve got a midget that pounds down Rolling
Rocks!” (I love Pittsburgh for being so blatantly politically
incorrect, by the way.) Interested, I asked the girl where
Casey’s was.

And this nearly lifelong California boy got told. “Are you
not from Pittsburgh?” she asked. “Or do you just not
get out much?”

Of course, once I said I was from Los Angeles, her face lit up
and she presented me with a set of beads. Score.

There is a tangible reason why bar-hopping is infinitely more
fun in Pittsburgh than in Los Angeles. Simply, Pittsburgh is and
always has been a blue-collar town. Few things about it are
glamorous. Pittsburghers wear Steelers gear like Angelenos wear
designer denim.

Pittsburgh is not snooty. Its denizens do not turn up their
noses and judge people who walk into bars to have a good time. So
long as you don’t badmouth the Steelers, you’re in. In
Pittsburgh, going to a bar does not involve being judged on whether
you’ve got “the right stuff” to be let inside.
There aren’t guest lists. There aren’t Paris
Hilton-esque spoiled party divas to contend with. The South Side of
Pittsburgh is what a true college town should be, with students
from Duquesne, Carnegie Mellon and Pitt coming together to get
trashed and have a good time. Imagine Santa Barbara, except more
controlled.

It’s a shame we don’t have anything like this in
Westwood, or really in the Los Angeles area. Unfortunately,
Westwood is a college town not constructed with students in mind.
Instead, it caters to rich types from Bel Air and Beverly Hills,
not to mention high school kids from the Valley who hang out at
Habibi’s and try to look cool (not that I’d know from
experience).

Also, I would like to note that I just wrote an entire column
that had absolutely nothing to do with music.

Actually, I take that back. One bar had a Dean Martin
impersonator who looked absolutely nothing like him. (He had a
goatee!) I joked that this was like having a blond Elvis
impersonator … and wouldn’t you know, I was told that this
guy typically brought an Elvis impersonator with him … who had
blond hair.

It’s like my cousin said later that night: “If you
can’t stand kitsch, then get out of Pittsburgh.”

If kitsch is more than 75 bars where anyone can walk in and the
Jaeger bombs flow like water, then I’ll take in enough kitsch
to make me worship the porcelain gods for a year.

If you think it’s simultaneously awesome and
depressing that Expressmart is Westwood’s coolest hang-out,
e-mail Humphrey at mhumphrey@media.ucla.edu.

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