Food Porn: The Fishbowl

This week's edition of food porn is brought to you by my 10-year college reunion. This past weekend, I traveled to Dayton, Ohio to relive my college days. The food: Milano's subs and BW-3 wings. The place: the student neighborhood affectionately known as 'the ghetto' and the surrounding bars whose soundtrack made it feel as if time had stood still (read: "Ghetto Superstar," "Don't Stop Believin'," and "Crazy Game of Poker" on repeat.)

Little did I realize my little blue dress would be the
perfect accompaniement to the beverage of choice.

After a party in the pub on campus, we traveled in droves to a place we frequented back in the day. This place was a bar stumbling distance from campus known as "The Fieldhouse." I had been to this bar many times while at Dayton, and had celebrated many 21st birthdays there (including my own). This bar is most known for a concoction known as the fishbowl.

I'm not quite sure what goes into a fishbowl, but they are usually bright blue or a Hawaiian punch red, and is served in a plastic fishbowl with several bendy straws. Because you have to share a fishbowl. Seriously. Or you will die. To make a fishbowl, the bartender basically combines every type of liquor behind the bar. And somehow it works. And it tastes amazing.




Fish bowls are for sharing.

One of the other dangerous aspects of the fishbowl is you're never really quite sure what is in it, and your decision to get one is usually the result of porch drinking in the ghetto (or in our case, trying to relive 2002). This sweet nectar always seems like a good idea after drinking the Beast for a few hours.  I'm sure the fishbowl has brought people together, broken them up, and caused a few too many sorority girl throwdowns. The fieldhouse fishbowl: Poor Life Choice. Which leads you to make even poorer decisions. Like going to Tim's. But that's a story not fit for this blog.