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Oh God, where do I start?
(Sorry, this is my Erma Bombeck beginning...) I was dragged to this
place by a buddy of mine for some nerdfest called The
Blogger Bash. I had walked by this bar a million times and was
scared to death to go in even without the added fact that I was going
to have to hang out with a bunch of freaks who were going to talk
about how many times their cat puked on Tuesday, or why they think
macramé should be an Olympic sport. The bar itself proved to
not be as scary as I expected, but I was there before the crowds.
It was initially easy to get a drink, and the surroundings were reasonably
cool, with a light-up bar, small tables by the front windows and others
lining the wall. While I'll skip my actual experience at the event
I was there to attend (you can read about that by clicking the link
earlier in this review), I emerged from the side room where it was
being held at some point to see the true face of Zanzibar--and it
was exactly what I expected. A bunch of hard-looking early-thirty-somethings
dripping with desperation, all waiving twenties in the hopes that
one of the inexperienced bartenders would notice them and grab them
a cosmo before their courage dried up. It's one of those places that
is so hideously uncool that only insecure trendoids would consider
it "classy" or "exclusive." All the more reason
to jack up the prices, play the music too loud and make people believe
there's something cool going on behind the white curtains. Remember
the Wizard of Oz? Yup, they pulled back the curtain and found the
mighty Oz was merely a dude pulling a bunch of levers. Pay no attention
to the man behind that curtain! [MF]
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