
It’s been observed that there are only seven unique plotlines in the world, and all books, movies and plays are just variations on those themes. The same is true for barroom conversations, except there are only five. Here, then, my hard-won advice on navigating them successfully:

Me with a lucky lady.
The most important part of making this happen is the groundwork you lay in the bar before putting the moves on anyone. The main thing you need to do is build a third-party coalition that can validate how awesome you are to the object of your ardor. This means becoming what I call “Liquor Fabulous.” Strike up conversations with the other well-lubricated patrons around you. Once you have a decent coalition built, when you do get a chance to chat up the hottie who just walked in, everyone will know your name and think you’re the funniest bastard who ever lived. She’ll never know what hit her.

Getting my game on.
Somebody else, that is. Somebody a lot cooler than you. For instance, a few months back I had a grand old time in Dublin regaling the locals with the story of the time I was forced to turn back just 500 feet from the summit of K2. I grew somber as I recounted how rapidly and unexpectedly the weather conditions had deteriorated. And then when my Sherpa lost his footing and broke his ankle, well, I had no choice but to strap him to my back and turn around. Fortunately, I’d brought along a pair of Telemark skis.

My new best bro for the night.
Between the noise in the joint and the spirits in its patrons, conversations tend to drift miles from their intended destinations. Let them. Life is too short to not find out what’s out there in left field.
The black art of injecting yourself into someone else’s conversation has the highest degree of difficulty of the bunch. If you’re game to give it a go, note that your success relies almost entirely on brevity and timing. When you butt in uninvited, you’ve got five, maybe 10 words with which to make an impression and be invited in. If they’re not delivered at precisely the right moment, you’re toast. It’s just “Hey, David Bowie wore tights,” and out. Lean back, say no more. When your conversation is the one being butted in upon, and you sense you’re about to end up on the wrong end of a rag session about some lush’s hag of an ex-wife, just remember these magic words: “Before we get into that, can I tell you about my personal relationship with Jesus Christ?” Works every time.
Engage in enough conversations with drunken strangers, and trouble is bound to rear its ugly head. Maybe you made an impolitic remark about the Mets’ chances in this year’s World Series and the biggest Mets fan in the world now has strong opinions about the manliness of your shirt. In fact he’d like to butch it up a bit by decorating it with, say, your blood. It may seem as though the conversation has moved past the verbal rebuttal phase and into “let me make that point another way” territory, but there are still a number of ways to achieve a non-violent resolution:
a) Apologize and offer to buy the next round. This should settle things down, at least momentarily. Don’t let the fleeting feeling of brotherhood lull you into a false sense of security. You need to get out of Dodge at your earliest opportunity, because eventually shirt guy will forget all about that conciliatory whiskey sour you bought him and remember that you referred to his hero David Wright as a “poor man’s A-Rod.”
b) Apologize, offer to buy the next round, and excuse yourself to take a leak. Then sneak out and stick them with the tab.
c) If all else fails, try throwing up on yourself. It’ll be messy and embarrassing, sure, but think about it—not even Mike Tyson would hit a man who just puked himself. And take it from someone who knows: your lunch washes out a lot easier than blood.
The Imbiber is Dan Dunn, the country’s preeminent rockstar booze writer. His upcoming book, Living Loaded: A tale of sex, salvation and the pursuit of the never-ending happy hour, will be released by Random House in January 2011. Follow him on Twitter.
11:11 am on July 23rd, 2010
Jesus! I saw him standing in front of Home Depot the other day.