 |
Upper
East Side, living-with-mommy-spending-daddy's-credit card-kids are
scary. Imagine if a couple of these kids got a "loan" from mom and
dad to open a sickening boating vacation-themed bar, and it all turned
out to be a big party for preppy, rich kids and their ilk. I haven't
been this scared (or is it scarred?) since I accidentally walked into
a lesbian biker bar in Saugus, CA. The vapid bartenders in their rolled-sleeve
Oxfords and khakis made me want to check my calendar to see if I had
fallen into a wormhole and been beamed back to 1991. My portable EEG
machine's needle didn't even jump when I asked to slip the suction
cups to one of their soft skulls. Maybe their brains were scrambled
by the high-volume, Spring break music they crank to deafening levels.
For the millionth time: their is no correlation between the number
of decibels and the fun being had by patrons of any establishment.
The worst faux pas was when this "classy" place ran out of glasses
and began serving their swill in weak, plastic cups. Nice job, frat
kids. We've been in this weird, split-level space through several
incarnations and this is possibly the worst one yet. We can only assume
that it will soon follow its former 1470 1st Avenue brethren, Beacon
Hill Ale House, Canyon Road, and Mongo's Bar into oblivion.
[MF]
|
Hipster Movie Reviews
Hipster Book Reviews
Music