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I remember back in the
day when this was Orchard Bar. To me
it represented everything that was hip and groovy. It was the Lower
East Side and this joint had bouncers and models (whom I realized
later were just skinny chicks--or at least skinnier chicks than those
in the scummy Irish college bars on the UES) and ambient whatever
music and a fish tank that wasn't really a fish tank! It was so fuckin'
cool, I, as a fresh-faced jean-wearin' pipsqueak, dared not besmirch
its name or else be cast into an indeterminate pit of lameness. I'm
can’t recall how long ago Orchard Bar met its demise, but flash forward
to 2010 and I'm sitting in 200 Orchard surrounded by the ghosts of
my insecurity-addled past. On this evening, though, it was just me
and my ghosts--literally, just us. Well, ok, there was a bartender
there, but I sat there solo slowly coming to the realization, as the
bar's blood red walls morphed back into the old fish tanks and then
back to blood red, that I was where I was. The skinny, cramped entryway
was unrecognizable while not crammed with dudes, and the former shabby
chic lounge in the back had been transformed into something that didn't
look like a health code violation in the making but rather an eco-friendly
wooden Downtown fantasy. They had made of it a proper bar with Guinness
on tap! It's a shame really that I was alone, as the vibe and bartender
and it’s mixture of red lighting, exposed brick and what could only
be a dance floor(!?) all seemed like it had potential. Granted, had
I come back several hours later, that potential might have been fulfilled
but also may have been killed by some douche with one too many fancy
pants drinks under his belt. What's old is new again I always say,
so next time I'm in the neighborhood I just might (just might) raise
my sword to slay that dragon once again. [MF]
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