Corey Pierce

Life as an 18-year-old guy is a hormone-induced mania. Rutting elk are the best comparison, and if teenage boys had antlers, our health system would be in far worse shape than it is now. It was this time in my life — frisky, energized and stupid — that I first crossed the hallowed threshold of the Ship & Anchor Pub.

The Ship (or the Whip & Spank’er as some like to call it) was fortuitously situated two blocks from my high school. That meant on Friday afternoons, when school was out early, I could saunter down the road and sample one of the Ship’s fine beers, while taking in what, to me, was an endless supply of sexy servers.

It takes a while for a man to realize that crushes on servers generally don’t go well, you just end up tipping ridiculous amounts of money. Hell, some men never realize that hitting on a server is usually a losing proposition. So there I sat. Wide-eyed with a legal pint in my hand, and the sexy, surly waitresses dropping them off.

Most have faded into distant boozy memories, but some servers were and still are friends. Jill Templeton (hi Jill) and Amber Bierle (hi Amber) definitely fit the bill. I even went on a date with the ever sexy Mirriam Bankey, but it ended poorly when I kicked her ass at Scrabble (Mirriam, please refer to this quote if you feel the urge to dispute this undeniable fact: “Never argue with a man who buys ink by the barrel.”).

I will also always have a spot in my heart for that really short waitress, who usually sported a punk rock T-shirt. Her name escapes me, but I caught a glimpse of her outside the pub the other day and felt transported back to the dizzy days of schoolboy crushes.

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the girl with the curly red hair and glasses who seems to captivate all the boy’s attention at the pub these days. Guys, and girls, you know who I’m talking about.

The Ship certainly has a different breed of lady compared to the runner-up: Cowboys. I know some men favour the plasticine crowd, but I like my women and my Scotch straight up. Something the Ship has been gracious to provide all these years.

But it’s not just the good looks of the staff (sorry boys, I don’t have an eye for you so you’re getting left out, but I’ll give a nod to Tyler and Nolan ’cause they serve me beer), the Ship also takes top honours for the Best of Calgary’s surliest staff.

This is something I don’t have much personal experience with, probably due to my charming, well-behaved attitude. I’m almost positive I’ve never been kicked out of the pub (but who knows). Though I have seen the staff, swamped and exasperated by patrons on a weekend, pushing their way through the crowded bar with looks of vengeance scrawled across their collective brow. And I’ve certainly heard the stories of cranky service staff at the pub, but I don’t believe them, sweet, sweet Ship & Anchor.

One recent conversation with a bouncer might be an example of why some people voted the way they did, but to me it’s a positive aspect of the pub, rather than negative.

My friend Nicole and I walked up to the door on a recent busy, warm afternoon for a pint on the full patio. I asked the bouncer if there was any way he could kick someone off the patio for us. He laughed and said, “No, but that table of douchebags is about ready to leave in my opinion.” We laughed, looking towards a table of popped-collars and spikey, frosted-tip hair. “Can you do that?” I asked hopefully. “No,” he said, regret heavy in his voice.

You see, the Ship has managed to maintain a good crowd, diverse and friendly, despite its location in the heart of the Red Mile. There’s an attitude amongst the staff that helps and my friends and I decided there’s a sort of self-policing among the patrons. We all try our best to wash away the douches. If they don’t like the surliness, there are plenty of other options down the road.