NOTSUOH'S

TEXAS PRAIRIE FIRE

A A A Comments (1) By Chris Boyd Thursday, Jun 14 2007

Between hundreds of drinks, thousands of drunk texts and too many dates with a hot brunette to count, I've learned a couple things doing this column. One, I'm an obnoxious drunk. And two, Houston is anything but a dull town. If you can get bored in a city of two million souls, the same place that brought us the Apollo moon landing, ZZ Top, Bill Hicks, Enron, DJ Screw and Dominique Sachse's cleavage, you're a closet Republican. I'm reminded of this as I head to Notsuoh (314 Main, 713-409-4750) to check out 47 Miles of Barbed Wire, a two-piece group featuring Jason Kerr, the Grandmaster Flash of drinks columnists. Thirty minutes later, everyone's picking their jaws up off the floor and wishing they had remembered to bring earplugs. As our cowpunk bartender pours shots of tequila into salt-rimmed shot glasses, I take in the bar's paintings of naked ladies, weird shit you find in your grandparents' attic, and unique characters you absolutely couldn't find anywhere else. While Austin bribes Hollywood with weed and Dallas starves itself to impress New York, Houston just slams another shot, orders another cheeseburger and lets it all hang out in true Third Coast style. Somewhere, the drunken ghost of Sam Houston is smiling.