Thursday, June 3, 2010

Addendum - Underwater Lounge Open Bar

Whiskey open bar right around the corner, so I swing by. It's the exact type of place I fucking hate. Smooth electronic r&b and plush seats, douchey clinetele, and clueless losers behind the bar. Thankfully it's about empty so there's really not that much to despise at the moment. But the open bar runs til 11pm, so let me get shitfaced before anything resembling a crowd shows up.

The bartender and this jackass with a backpack have an exchange about the bartender's 'Where the Wild Things Are' t-shirt, which he assures us that he "bought before the movie came out" as if to proclaim his originality and non-herd mentality. Obviously he's 'old school'. Hah, he's barely 21 himself and I don't remember the book that well being 12 years his senior.

I get my whiskey on the rocks and rant on my handheld phone, as you are currently reading. The "DJ" is clicking away on his laptop, hitting us with dope jams, which is fucking pathetic. Lame muzak versions of hip songs from 20 years ago blare from the speakers as strobe lights slide across the "dancefloor". The Yankees and Twins duel on the flatscreen at the end of the bar to keep the simple minded male occupied as his girlfriend scans the room for a hotter mate.

A sad, old, bald dude sits on my left, swishing his straw in his drink. I imagine he wonders where it all went wrong. At least I look 25 and still am rocking a full head of hair. I'm not him, yet. But I could be, spend a few years stagnant, still scouring to make plans to get drunk for as cheap as possible. Still clinging to the remnants of a 'scene'.

But there is no scene. Not here. It's sad on an epic level. A hefty, sweatshirted heffer sits to my right talking way too loud to a tattooed dude who has his back to me. They have a cold plate of mostly devoured fries between them. I wonder if they are a couple, but I don't think they are, despite being unable to come up with another reason this guy could be sitting beside this beast on a Saturday Night.

Shit, I totally wrote Saturday Night on instinct, even though it's Thursday. Shows how fucked up my work schedule is. I have nothing else to even say about this place, that's how horribly boring it is. But they are providing me with free whiskey (one dollar tip) and I'll be damned if my broke ass will pass up that kind of deal.

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