Midway on High

A buzzed drunk guy in front of some drunk sorority girls at Midway

Midway on High, affectionately known as "Midway" or "That Place Where I Lost My Dignity," is a quintessential "Mid" bar – you know, the kind where you go to forget your worries, your phone number, your social security card, and sometimes your name. Nestled in the heart of THEEEE™ Ohio State University's campus, Midway is the ultimate destination for Buckeyes looking to drown their sorrows in cheap beer and questionable life choices (and maybe one or two speeding tickets). It's like that one friend who always knows how to make a bad decision, but you love them anyway. Or maybe that's just the beer talking. Pukes

Midway's charm lies in its unapologetic embrace of chaos. Where else can you find a bar where the bartenders are also therapists, relationship counselors, and amateur paramedics? The decor is straight out of a bad 90s time capsule who had sex with too many white sorority slut-faces, and also got so drunk that the time capsule itself started fucking neon signs and enough beer pong tables to make you question your life choices. And yet, despite (or because of) its rough-around-the-edges vibe, Midway has become an institution, attracting everyone from wide-eyed freshmen to grizzled alumni looking to relive their glory days.

On any given night, you'll find Midway packed with students, alumni, and the occasional lost soul who wandered in thinking it was a legitimate establishment. The air is thick with the smell of stale beer, sweat, and desperation. But amidst the chaos, there's a sense of community – or at least, a shared understanding that we're all in this together, for better or for worse. Whether you're celebrating a Buckeyes win or drowning your sorrows after a breakup, Midway is the place to go – just don't forget to bring your liver (or a spare one, just in case).

History (i think)

Midway on High has been around since, um, forever – or at least since the invention of the bomb shot. Founded by a group of visionary bartenders who realized that serving cheap liquor to underage college students was a genius business plan, Midway quickly became the go-to spot for anyone looking to get turnt up on a Tuesday. Legend has it that the bar was built on an ancient Native American burial ground, which explains why so many patrons leave feeling cursed. Over the years, Midway has hosted some of the most epic ragers in OSU history, including that one time someone tried to drink a whole pitcher of Long Island iced tea and ended up singing "I Will Survive" on top of the bar.

Apparently, Midway used to be a respectable establishment, serving craft beers and hosting trivia nights. But then the apocalypse happened, and the world realized that bombs were the answer to all of life's problems. Now, Midway is the proud owner of a 3.5-star rating on Yelp, with reviewers praising its "authentic dive bar experience" and "excellent people-watching opportunities."

If you listen closely, you can still hear the echoes of broken dreams and shattered livers from years past. Or maybe that's just the sound of the bartender yelling, "Last call!"

Drinks (aka why the fuck you came here)

Midway's drink menu is an exercise in creativity, featuring classics like the "Bomb Shot" (a shot of who-knows-what dropped into a beer), the "Fishbowl" (a 100-oz behemoth of a drink that guarantees a good time), and the "Irish Car Bomb" (because nothing says "classy" like dropping whiskey into Guinness). If you're feeling fancy, you can opt for the "Midway Milk," which is 20% vodka, 20% Crapamigos, 35% Bacardi rum, 10% radioactive waste imported directly from Chernobyl, 5% cringe from James Charles, 5% laughing gas from Kamala Harris, 6.9% of Diddy's lubricant stolen directly from his freak-off parties, and the rest of it seawater directly from Jeffrey Epstein's island.

But let's be real – you're not here for the craft cocktails. You're here for the bombs. Glorious, wonderful, terrible bombs. might as well call them NUKES they bomb you so hard. Midway's bartenders are trained professionals in the art of bomb-making, able to churn out round after round of these tiny, tasty disasters.

If you're feeling adventurous, ask the bartender about the secret menu. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

Incidents with Drunk People (A.K.A. last Wednesday @ Madness)

Where do I even start? There was that one time someone tried to ride the mechanical bull and ended up with a broken nose. Or the great pizza-sauce-on-the-ceiling incident of 2018. Or that time the fire department had to be called because someone thought it'd be a good idea to set off the fire alarm.

But hey, at least the bartenders are understanding. They've seen it all – from the girl who cried for three hours straight to the guy who tried to pay with a coupon for Applebee's. Midway's staff are trained in the ancient art of drunk-person wrangling, able to coax even the most inebriated patron into doing something vaguely resembling a responsible decision.

Just don't ask about the time someone puked on the photo booth. That's just a dark stain on our collective conscience.

Midway Madness: Because Wednesday (and Friday afternoons) Isn't Too Early for a Liver Transplant

Midway Madness is the stuff of legends – a mythical realm where bombs are $1, wells are $1, and sanity is optional. Every Wednesday, all night, and Friday from 2-6 PM, Midway transforms into a scene from "The Hunger Games," where students and professionals alike gather to indulge in a reckless abandon of cheap liquor and poor decision-making.

Wednesday Midway Madness is a sacred tradition, a mid-week reprieve from the drudgery of classes and responsibility. It's not uncommon to see entire sororities, fraternities, and sports teams descending upon Midway, ready to take on the night (and the consequences). The line for bombs stretches around the block, a sea of eager patrons clamoring for their turn to sacrifice their liver on the altar of cheap thrills. Jeffrey Epstein just said "OMG SO MANY NEW HOUSEGUESTS FOR MY ISLAND!"

Fridays, on the other hand, are a slightly more tame affair – only slightly. The after-work crowd mingles with students kicking off the weekend, creating a delightful mix of button-down shirts and tank tops. The $1 wells are a particular favorite among the more "adventurous" patrons, who delight in guessing which mystery liquor will end up in their cup. It's like a box of chocolates, but with more risk of alcohol poisoning.

Parking (LOL Good Luck)

Parking at Midway is an exercise in futility, akin to finding a needle in a haystack or a sober person on a Friday night. Good luck navigating the maze of one-way streets and metered spots – you'll need it. Just don't park in the nearby lot, unless you enjoy being towed at 3 AM.

But hey, who needs parking when you can just Uber, right? Unless you're that one friend who always "forgets" their wallet and has to borrow $20 from everyone else.

If you're feeling adventurous, try parking in the nearby alleyway. Just don't say I didn't warn you about the tow trucks.