There are several migration routes through Pullman on any thirsty day of the week.

One important corridor is the Valhalla-Coug-Stubblefields pathway through Greek Row. Another avenue trod by the alcohol aficionados is the Rico’s-Paradise Creek-My Office-Foundry byway. Many of these specimen often veer off course onto the floor of Etsi Bravo.

Those who prefer something more solitary might settle for the Zzu and apartment romp through the high hills of Apartment Land. The cave dwellers among the inhabitants of the WSU collegiate jungle may even keep to their drinking vessels in the comfortable confines of a house or apartment.

Though the urge to wander the wastes of being wasted is strong, I advocate a more permanent sort of primal behavior. I encourage regular patronage and acquiring the best kind of friend with benefits, the bartender.

I am not saying you should go home with your bartender. Rather, I am suggesting the savvy bar-goer should consider befriending their bartender for beverage benefits.

My nuclear friend group once had a bartender we were groupies for. Not so long ago, there existed a magical pony bar called Swilly’s. There dwelt most evenings a sorceress of the most excellent variety, for, you see, she could distill the most excellent drinks and concoct the most clever cocktails.

She won over our devotion, so we worshipped at the altar that was her bar many evenings. For our loyalty, we were at one point rewarded with entrance to a New Year’s Eve party without invitations or cover charges.

Best of all is that she delighted us with her creativity, turning out new renditions of gin and whiskey cocktails not normally seen on a bar list. We even sipped on a lavish lavender-infused cocktail we dubbed as her special.

Sadly, our beloved bartender left for opportunities in larger confines than Pullman, but the relationship left an indelible mark on those of us lucky enough to sit on her barstools. It was a poignant lesson in commitment and a lesson not easily forgotten.

The sacred relationship between bartender and patron is indeed an economy of grace – if grace is a brand of bourbon. You may not be paying to drink for free, but you are paying to drink well beyond the well. At some point, the human heart urges one beyond the Pale of mere rail drinks and into the realm of the shelves.

Some in the Cougar kingdom are destined to remain migratory beasts with regards to waterholes; one pond does not satisfy the unquenchable thirst.

Others are more territorial, defending one particular source and remaining faithful to its steward. This sort of symbiosis allows all to prosper: tips go one way and potations pottle deep return.

So if the migratory routes of Greek Row or downtown Pullman have you weary, consider the option of befriending the best of your bartenders.