חופית קנטר
Google
When I was 21, I came to The Prince with a tourist friend from Argentina for one last drink before her flight home. The bar was mostly empty, but we were stopped at the entrance by a waitress who asked our age. I answered honestly, and we were told we couldn’t enter because we were "too young."
What confused me is that just a week earlier, I visited the same place with another friend—same age—and had no issues. No one asked our age, and we were let in without question.
I politely explained that we were only looking to have one beer before heading to the airport, and that it was a shame for this to be her final impression of the city. I even asked to speak to the shift manager, who I could see sitting nearby, but she refused to come over or address us directly.
Since that night, I’ve chosen not to return to The Prince—and I won’t, even if my age is now suddenly acceptable. The inconsistency and dismissive attitude left a lasting impression.