Damien S.
Yelp
For a no-relevance rocktrack, click here and read on: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZHVkJ1wVFM
Fellow Yelper Tarah H. preached the good lawd word about this everyPub and gave the utmost praise to the toasties - a blue collar moniker for your griddled panini.
Panini: (n.) a term and easy means given to jack the price of a pressed sandwich. See also: grilled cheese.
Let's give it a go, shall we?
Drawn by the siren song of Stump victory, I joined a band of merrY lads and lassies for Wednesday trivia and drinks. Allagash for $4 a pint? Tres bonne! Massive payouts to knowledge juggernauts? Sign me up. Malt vinegar for mountainous sides of fries? All like Allix T. drinkin' that shiz.
But...
That's where the stars collide. There is a nostalgic aesthetic for a rundown pub, particularly to blinded Brits, but a dive this isn't so it really shouldn't act like one. A single server was working the entire floor and on a typically crowded evening, this shows poor planning and provided inconsistent albeit friendly service throughout the night. The toastie - a Cuban, I might add - came very dry with bland pork and ham, as well as a false promise of jalapeno relish. Sounded interesting. Maybe next time it'll make it ON TO THE SANDWICH.
The trivia and participating crowd carried an oddly somber vibe, perhaps due to Eddie Murphy crooning his pursuit of partying all the time. Party all the time, party all the tiiiiiime. He wants to! The tween-question music made me want to have sex for all the wrong reasons.
Flash forward, we slaughtered the entirety of our intellectually meager competition and treated ourselves to a Mars Bar toastie. Can anyone confirm Eggo's are made in Belgium? Thought not. Delicious nonetheless; just a little hyperbolic and misleading in the description.
Parallel rows of blue Christmas lights gave soft illumination to the joint and made the Merman behind us feel at home. He still dried up and died, but he went with a false sense of security and a smile on his gilled, half-human face. The random butcher pig models and Old Worlde wooden pinballesque games provided appreciated kitsche.
Dunno kiddo, maybe I rocked the right place at the wrong time. Could also be the fact that my RENTAL candy apple red, racing-striped Mustang almost got towed. All in all, it was the people around me that made the night in this 3star bar.
Them and the guy with the ExtreMullet. Let's go rip it up in the Stang and crank Winger to 11, brosef.
Go back and click that link, Ricky. Tweren't no accident.