Emigrating from the People’s Republic of Boulder

Mountain Sun Pub and Brewery
1535 Pearl St.
Boulder, CO




What the hell is Suit757 doing in Boulder, Colorado -- the most leftist city in the country?

Except, it’s not, really -- because I don’t consider Boulder to be part of America.

That’s the life I live.

Tuesday I’m in Fort Worth, Texas, home of cattle, oil barons and the world’s largest honky tonk, Billy Bob’s Texas. Where liberty reigns and men are still men.

Wednesday I’m in Boulder, where eco-freaks reign and the women are still men -- and don’t shave their armpits.

Trust me. If it’s hot chicks you are after, go to Atlanta, Dallas, L.A. or Oxford, Mississippi.

But do NOT come to Boulder.

My eyes are still bleeding from the painful aesthetics.

But that hip leftist lifestyle goes far beyond a stubborn rejection of mascara and Daisy razors.

Being a true blue leftist requires a fanatical devotion to every form of diversity -- except diversity of abilities.

You see, it is just not fair for some people to be better than others.

Clearly, any diversity in outcomes must be a product of America’s capitalist, oppressive, racist biases.

This philosophy is on full display at Mountain Sun Pub and Brewery, where every employee does every job in the restaurant.

Every waiter is also a busboy, hostess, brewer, cook and toilet scrubber (I hope they wash their hands frequently). And all the employees pool their tips at the end of the night to be distributed equally.

How egalitarian.

It certainly wouldn’t be fair if one exceptionally good waiter received bigger tips than the rest of the staff.

Talk about not facing up to the facts of human reality.

I’m pretty sure this experiment in leftist utopia would fall apart in the real world, as soon as one good waiter got tired of handing over his hard earned tips to his slacker colleague.

Eventually, Atlas will shrug.

But it seems to work fine here in Boulder where everyone cheerfully buys into the Communist Manifesto.

From the moment I walked in the front door until I made my way to the bar in the back of the packed dining room, at least four different members of the Mountain Sun staff offered to put my name on the wait list and serve me a beer.

Within moments, eager employees were pushing free samples of their fresh brewed beer into my grateful hands. Each one enthusiastically described their various homemade brews while dashing back and forth across the dining room.

“Go with the F.Y.I.P.A.”, one particularly cheerful employee advised when I mentioned I like hoppy brews.

Good call. Hoppy, but not overpowering, the F.Y.I.P.A. had a nice sweet flavor.

I had barely taken a sip when yet another young lady led me to my table. She helpfully described the various culinary concoctions on the menu. Just when I was about to give her my food order, Mr. F.Y.I.P.A. appeared tableside and announced he would be my waiter.

I was so confused. I had only been in Mountain Sun Pub for five minutes and I had already interacted with the entire staff. A bit overwhelming for an introvert like Suit757.

Going for one of Mountain Sun’s gourmet burgers was tempting. But that would mean four nights in a row of burger consumption.

Maybe a bit much, even for Suit757.

So I opted for my dead cow in a slighted altered configuration -- the Speakeasy Steak Sandwich accompanied by top notch hand cut French fries.

Thin sliced marinated beef was tender as butter and smothered in camelized onions and melted mozzarella cheese. Horseradish and garlic mayo and giardiniera provided just a hint of spicy kick to keep my attention -- and keep the high alcohol beer flowing into my bloodstream.

The only downside to my delicious hoppy F.Y.I.P.A. was, where do I go from here?

My waiter brought out several samples of their other high potency concoctions. But none of them lived up to the hoppiest beer on the beer menu.

Then I noticed the term “nitro” listed next to a few select beers on the list.

Yes. Mountain Sun nitrogenates, rather than carbonates, several of their beers.

Anyone who has ever won a beer chugging contest knows that nitrogenated brews like Guinness go down much smoother than their carbonated brethren.

But most nitro beers tend to be mild and bland like stouts and cream ales.

Just the thought of trying a hoppy beer like Mountain Sun’s XXX Pale Ale on nitro was enough to get me excited.

Sure enough, it looked like a work of art.

A thick foamy head white as Boulder’s famous snow capped peaks on top of a golden body of hoppy deliciousness, this was one of the greatest beers that has ever graced Suit757’s liver.

Without the distraction of carbonation, the full flavor of the XXX shined through. And smooth as a baby’s bottom, this 7.5% alcohol beer slid down easy.

Real easy.

Two beers in (and so many free sample that I lost count), I was thanking myself for making the decision to walk, rather than drive, the one mile from my Room 255 at the Best Western.

Which made my next decision that much easier.

When asked, I said, “Hell, yeah”, to one more beer.

My night capper of Dropkick American Stout was well named. 6.5% alcohol, this was one manly black stout.

My head was spinning by the time my waiter brought the check and informed me they don’t take credit cards.

How fashionably anti-capitalist.

I may have been in an altered state of mind after so much high octane craft beer, but I still wasn’t buying into Mountain Sun’s collectivist vibe.

However there was no questioning the top notch service and enthusiasm displayed by the Mountain Sun staff.

But how can the good vibes thrive in the long run as long as individual initiative and achievement is squelched?

Just as I was peeling off the twenties to pay for my evening of fun, I noticed a few cracks in the Communist façade.

My chipper waiter was exchanging his contact information with the customers.

“Boulder is great, but I need to get out of here,” he said. “I’m looking for a job in finance in Washington DC. I’d really appreciate it if you could put in a good word for me.”

And you know what? That’s the beauty of the free market.

Everyone -- even liberals -- eventually gets tired of scrubbing toilets and want to be recognized for their individual abilities.

But you are going to have to leave Boulder for that.

Welcome to America, my friend.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!