So earlier tonight, some friends and I gathered at Mason Dixon for drinks, food, drinks, football, and drinks. While we were there, we also did a little drinking and that led to a little mechanical bull riding.
I was NOT going to ride the bull. I was pretty adamant about that. I even updated my Facebook and Twitter status via mobile phone to declare as much. And after a nearly half-hour session of relentless peer pressurizing, I still refused to get on the bull. Alas, after seeing the disappointment in the faces of my friends, I knew what I needed to do. So, yeah.
I will say this, I held on to that motherfucker for quite some time. After I was thrown onto the air mattress, I got up, arms raised in a victory pose, and accepted the bar’s thunderous applause.
Despite its name and decor, Mason Dixon was pretty cool. The drinks are inexpensive, the food was tasty (catfish tacos and macaroni & cheese FTW!!), and a good time was had by all. I’ll probably head back soon as it’s right off the F train in the LES. But, um, I’m not getting back on that fuckin’ bull. No sir.