The A.V. Club’s down-to-earth guide to drinking your way through a Minneapolis summer

If you want a guide to the choicest glass of pinot or gastronomic drinks that emit small prisms, this is not it. This guide has taken great pains to shove aside any pretense of classiness that may be associated with imbibing the beloved molecule, ethanol. Instead, get ready to plan nights around your reptilian brain, skipping off across the Hennepin Avenue bridge with rail booze in your liver, and a craving for a hot dog in your heart.

If a night of drinking also means a night of chain-smoking
Why not embark on a chain-smoking tour of bars with patios? (Many strictly organic restaurants are out; they’ll politely tell you to “take a walk around the block with your cigarette.”) Start at the Kitty Cat Klub in Dinkytown, where you can smoke in the face of the slightly eggy smell coming from under the bridge. Then cab to Club Jager to pick up a scent of bonfire as you huddle with journalists, fashion designers, and other scenesters. By now you’re getting sloppy, so go somewhere less dignified, like The C.C. Club [2600 Lyndale Ave. S.], where the back porch is a “Who am I kidding? I’m asking for cancer” den of people just like you. The next morning, smoke into your bloody Mary on the rooftop patio at Uptown Cafeteria.

If you want to figure out if your friend is gay or not
Challenge him to a night of gay bar hopping. If he protests, he might be hiding something. Promise him that Northeast’s Lush is a classy bar with a unisex bathroom and drinks that come in highball glasses. Once there, analyze whether he pays more attention to the gaggle of straight girls or to the giant monitor streaming Lady Gaga. After a buzz is on, bus to the Saloon, which is known for its Long Island Iced Teas. Now it’s time to flat out ask your friend if he is gay. He totally is, so head to Jet Set to celebrate in a bar so pretty that it feels like a window installation piece on disco balls and leather.

If you’re going on a date you want to end in sex
Start somewhere respectable. If you want to seem down-to-earth, go to The Bulldog in Northeast. Have a Delirium Tremens beer and feel the flutters of new romance. Have truffled chicken nuggets and feel the churn of fried food. If you’d rather seem sophisticated, go to Aster Cafe on Main Street and stare at the river while drinking a tea-infused cocktail: Earl Grey vodka just screams, “My underwear are from Gilly Hicks!” Then walk a short distance to Nye’s Polonaise Room. Tell your date that Esquire named the place Best Bar In America. In the presence of people singing karaoke with a piano, you’ll both feel awkward enough to quickly slam two drinks. The next logical step is to suggest a bar close to one of your houses, or you could go to Nick & Eddie, a swank spot surrounded by Loring Park and dark alleys that seem to get the pheromones going.

If you want to eat a hot dog you’ll forget about
Head to Rudolph’s Uptown after 10 p.m. You didn’t need 2-for-1’s, but you might as well get a couple. Be pleasantly surprised that you’re sitting in a booth, and it’s not too loud to hear the company you’re with. Have another 2-for-1 and cushion it with two hot dogs. Wake up the next day and slowly retrace the night via relish on your lip.

If you are poor but must go out drinking
Welcome to a night of lowered expectations and heightened blood alcohol levels. Your night will be a game of hot and cold until you end up at the Library Bar in Dinkytown. Yes, it’s a total college frat bar, but the drinks are so cheap that you may just get drunk while trying to reach the $10 credit card minimum. Cheers—to Miller Lite.

If you want to feel better about yourself via watching embarrassing people sing
Lucky for you, you can do this within a fairly small radius. Point A on your map is karaoke bar (with a cute nickname related to the U of M and otters, maybe?) U Otter Stop Inn [617 Central Ave. SE] in Northeast. One tiny rail drink at a time, feel yourself melt into the crowd of interesting human smells: potato chips, lavender perfume, recently flushed toilet, etc. Soon you’ll be singing along with Shania Twain while cheering “Go Mildred!” at a woman wearing a knit sweater full of snowmen. When the smell’s level exceeds your limit, go to The Moose [356 Monroe St. NE], which is only a couple of blocks away. Sure there’s less furniture and circus accessories hanging from the ceiling, but the lack of stimulus lets you really concentrate on the father/daughter (you hope) duo singing “My Sharona.”

If you want to sway dance to a hipster band around awkward white people
Hell’s Kitchen is the newest cool place to do this. Frankly, that place works better when you just want to stare at too much Ralph Steadman art while eating a ham and pear sandwich, but it’s branching out. Go for your favorite act of skinny DJ graphic designers; stay to watch stoned people eat french fries. If that’s not your style, head to Honey. A basement lounge, it plays the Roo to fusion restaurant Ginger Hop’s Kanga. Eat wontons upstairs, and then ask for St. Germain downstairs. Pro tip: You’re more likely to get action leaning over the bar than dancing.