There are only a couple options for raising a glass of good ol' oat soda to your newborn minion within walking distance of St. Peter's Hospital. You have Andy's Sports Bar (across New Scotland) which is not really my cup of chai, and then you have the Allen Street Pub. Ask any of the Albany born about the place and you will hear allusions to Mccaffrey's (which used to occupy the location) and how they used to drink there when they were in high school.
There is also this sign which is unspeakably awesome. Where have the days of salty, pungent, fatty, pickled bar snacks gone? Bring them back please. I want a liverwurst sarny with my nooner thank you very much. Last time I was at the Palais (several years ago) they still had pickled eggs and sausage, thank god we still have that.
After quaffing a couple 4 dollar Guinnesses, my friend dared me to drink up a squat little bottle of Mickey's finest (malt likker). I can not turn down any request on the occasion of the birth of my sun, so I obliged.
On my way back to the hospital I spied a lonely afro pick in the middle of the side walk. O' Albany, how I love thee in all of your resplendent glory. What corner of the world would I choose if it were not for you?
I will probably have a little more to say about the momentous birth of my manly heir in the coming days, but the whole thing is still sinking in. I was born in St. Peter's for god's sake! My son, who shares my name, was probably born within a couple hundred feet of where I was born too (not to mention my Dad and his Dad who were born in Albany hospitals as well). Now I am drinking Guinness up the way while he wriggles in his crib at the hospital...
Such is life I guess, hopefully I am up to the momentous task of turning a wriggling, pink, munchkin into a right and proper Upstate American gent. We shall see.