“You can stop training,” my coach said to me. “The contest is off.” I put down my weighted shaker, took my headphones off, wiped the sweat from my brow and looked up in disbelief.
The suicide drills between the kitchen and the bar, squats on full cases of beer, lunges with magnum Champagne bottles in each hand, and shaking drills have filled up my free time—and for what? There would be no Best Bartender Category this year in the Source’s Best of Bend issue.
I just spent a week in Canyon Country in Utah staring at pictographs from hundreds of years ago and it reminded me that it is human nature to leave our mark. At our bar, ...
I was recently out at a bar, which is a rare occasion, as I don’t often go to what I consider the “flip side.” There is a reason for that, and it’s typically because I fe...
It’s sweet and innocent and endearing to see two people connect – even when they are at their most awkward. Typically, the man will spout witty one-liners and buy his lo...
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