ick of hanging with the budget beer guzzling riff raff that the typical beer emporium draws? Avoid the pub plebeians and head to the Yardhouse (no, not where they congregate to play pick up B-Ball) for a classy night of sports viewing on any one of their 27 TVs. When the weather gets warmer and you must drown you sorrows after the Flames failed to win the Cup, head onto the patio and cry on a lucky lady’s shoulder in exchange for a drink (order her the ½ a yard tall beer and maybe you’ll be forgetting your sorrows with her after the bar too). If you’d prefer to fly solo, scope out the traffic on 17th from the patio for some eye candy without the effort.
-E.J.

Everything's smooth and shiny. Except you. Clean yourself up if you're going to come here. -D.M.