A dive bar with a free juke box, minimal selection of booze but a good staff and 70’s era decorations. It’s been “found” by the hipster crowd so get there early to avoid the trustafarians invading to drink PBR ironically while they admire their bad haircuts. I ran into an old friend Richard there, and had a blast (and some shots) with him. Tequila and Redbull, Maker’s Mark were on the block that night.
When I think of a “bar” in the classic sense, this is exactly the thing that comes to mind. Small, poorly lit, extensive amounts of heavily oiled dark wood and a general feel of someplace to go to drink away your sorrows; In my mind this place even has shag carpeting but I do believe reality doesn’t agree with me on this one. As Marv said, this place has been discovered by hipsters going in for the ironic touch that this bar, in it’s un-updated since the day it was born decor, gives one that drinks a steady diet of PBR because it’s the in thing. We made it there early before there was more than one or two fixies sitting out front so we got a good feeling for the old crowd that used to populate this place and they are a bunch of older, but very friendly folk. Conversations at the bar weren’t just joined in by anyone else at or near the bar, it was almost expected. The bartender seemed a little off-put by the crowd, probably hoping that the late-coming hipsters were better tippers, but drinks were served quickly so no points deducted there. Overall, this bar is a good one if you go early and want to hit a good, classic, what-your-dad-drank-at-if-your-dad-drank-at-bars bar.
Attending: Rawb, Marv, Sascha
This was a rough night for me as it was the anniversary of the death of my father. I was bound and determined to go out regardless of my illness, depression and injury. As we were walking in, a soldier in his Class A uniform asked us to have champagne with him. We of course allowed as this would be an awesome idea and proceded to have a couple of bottles outside the bar. Inside we paid our $5 cover and claimed a table. We had Scotch in honor of my father and from there on had a great night. One made epic by a series of text message pranks played on an unsuspecting public when Rawb started getting messages from people expecting a “Sassy” instead of a “Rawb.” I enjoyed my Glen Livet and Black and Tans.
This night didn’t seem like it would amount to much, it was snowing and the location of this bar is not very snow-friendly. It’s a pseudo-biker bar, really more intended for leather-clad suburbanites or snow bunnies after a hard day bunnying. Taking aside the unexpected level of awesomeness contributed by the drunken man in uniform handing out free champaign and the joy of chaos produced by the misdirected phone number, I still like this bar. Pulling a reverse doctor who, it’s smaller inside than it appears from the outside with the majority of the space collected around the bar in the center. Tables are fairly plentiful, which is where we spent our evening and even got our drinks brought to us by a waitress which shows we don’t necessarily have to stick with what we know. The music was your standard cover band, more enthusiastic about their destruction of your all time favorites of classic rock than normally performed but the volume level was set low enough so that one could actually talk across the table. The crowd here seems mostly older, but there was a handful of the younger generation and everyone seemed to be quite friendly, the table next to us even joining in on some of our pranks on the hapless misdirected phone number people.
Attending: Rawb, Marv, JL, Renae
While there was a cover band there slaughtering many of the great songs of people much older than my youth I still enjoyed myself. The bar was pretty surrounded by people and it was a bit tough trying to get a drink, fortunately my zebra print shirt allowed me to part someone from their seat long enough to get something ordered. The general feel here is all about the younger collage student with no particular style. Strangely, it seemed to favor having more women there than men.
A $5 cover is hardly bad, but it’s only charged to dudes. This is apparently the status quo at this club. Dance floor upstairs, bro bar down. I enjoyed my Maker’s with Redbull to round out an evening out on the town.
Attending: Rawb, Marv, Lacey, Sascha
While dance clubs aren’t typically my thing strangely enough dance clubs on gay night turn out to also not be my thing. In a desperate attempt to wake up I managed to squeeze up to the bar and ordered an overpriced vodka and redbull (are you sensing a trend?). Feeling slightly defeated that no one there bought me a drink, I turned tail and headed out soon enough.
Saturday nights are Gay Night at Bliss. The cover charge was reasonable at $5. Seems to be pretty common to have that charge at dance clubs. I got a quick Vodka and Redbull and had to leave nearly immediately to escort Lacey from the hotel party she was attending to our next venue. The building is the old Vortex/Splash/The Bay, so don’t expect a lot. Still a great building, and still no good tenants. Expect a young crowd any time you visit.
Attending: Rawb, Marv, Sascha