Rachel goes to Cowboy Slim, contends comically with the frat party crowds, and gets her purse stolen. A sample: “There are a lot of guys who look like deer in the headlights,” my mom remarked. “And the girls are all traveling in packs.” I struggled to finish my Cowboy Slim’s ale, a sweet, malty brew that’s both an easy drinker and something to be tired of quickly — a description that might also apply to the sort of person a Cowboy Slim’s patron might go home with at the end of the night.