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Nothing like a subterranean
playground for the be-suited and insanely nouveau riche to get your
Friday night jumpin'. I actually hate hanging out in places where
I know with absolute certainty that my salary is at least ten times
less than anyone else's in the entire vicinity--including the barmaids'.
Salary, in this case, may also cover weekly allowances, trust funds
and funds otherwise accumulated through less than perfectly legal
means. Regardless, I will put my prejudices aside if it means hanging
out in a place as cool as this one. And while the whole red velvet,
candles and ottoman seating thing isn't normally in our repertoire,
we can appreciate attractive woman in semi-darkness chugging martinis
and silently calculating the net worth of the guy in the fresh Prada
outfit. Despite the obvious step-down in class, the help was reasonably
amenable to our drunken orders, and the DJ's didn't pull an Otis Day
when my jeans rode up to show a white sweat sock disappearing into
my Puma. This joint, with its swanky air and progressive retro thing,
wouldn't be my bar of choice to meet the guys for a beer after work,
but any place that can inspire me to order a $14 drink can't be half
bad. [MF]
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