Type: Lounge
Class: Dive

This small little dive of a lounge is nothing special. There is an older bartender who pours out your standard fare and is friendly, if you are a regular. Between the rickety tables and the wood paneling, I felt like I was in someone’s basement rather than in a bowling alley lounge.

Jim picked up the sponsorship of these $4 drinks and as the only arrival to our bar 400 “event” we thank him heartily. We choose our drinks and drank them quickly. The small booze selection behind the bar lent itself more to the beer swilling masses of West Seattle than to the delicate palettes of Jason and I. Stacked to one side of the bar were enough beer pitchers to feed a large frat house. Perhaps it was enough so that each lane of bowlers could have their own pitcher of swill to wash down the Chinese food that they could get from the attached restaurant. The food was fine, but it took forever to get a decent plate of food out to me.

With some of the strangest bowling alley hours around there is no reason to bowl here or to drink here unless you live in West Seattle. I have recommended places out here before, but this is not one of them. I give the West Seattle Bowl 1 and half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Nightspot
Class: Average

The Lizzard Lounge tops a short list of places worth going to drink in West Seattle. We are about 2 short of the whole shebang and as near as I can tell there are 3 places worth going out here. Five if you are looking to get plastered cheap and you don’t care how it gets done.

This trendy little nightspot has a spunky bartender named Donna with a bit of sparkle and a bit of sass. She was friendly, chatty, and quite knowledgeable. Although she could not tell us why they took Diner’s Club. Who uses Diner’s club anymore? I thought that was just an east coast thing, but apparently I’m wrong. The most important thing to remember about Donna is that she totally reminded us of Ros from Frasier. It was kind of creepy.

Behind the bar is a pyramid of booze that dominates the landscape. The long black bar provides ample sprawl so that we didn’t have to sit to close the west Seattle masses. They frighten me out here in the Admiral District. I sometimes wonder if they eat strangers who get lost. The second floor has a number of booths and a single pool table. I didn’t want to wander up there alone, but I did anyway. Fortunately there were no zombies lurking to take advantage of my separation from society.

With lots of booth seating, a good selection of blues, and dance music on the weekends, this is definitely the only nightspot of choice for people who don’t want to leave West Seattle (and they don’t). Jim picked up our $4 drinks so thanks to him. I give the Lizzard Lounge 4 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

We roamed down the block, the nine of us as I think it was, and eventually rounded the corner and came to Harbor Place, a spot that looked a bit nicer from the outside than was likely to let us in.

However, it wasn't. I mean, it still looked nice inside, and so on, but they let us in. Perhaps this was because the bar is right in front, and you have to go past it to get to the restaurant, and thus we weren't disturbing any patrons but for the two at a table and two at the actual bar. Perhaps it was just that we looked to be spending some cash. Which we did.

We sat in a great long arc of four tables, all with one common padded bench seat connecting them. And within moments, there were drinks at the various tables from various buyers, and the two bartenders were being very obliging about seperate checks and the like. There was again nothing great about the drinks, which weren't terribly strong, but were of an okay size.

We were joined as we sat by Emily, then Jesse and Mindy, then Marla and Michelle, and so we had swelled to about 15 or so. I'm not sure of the actual count, and I suspect I'm forgetting a person or so in my overall count, so we'll just leave it at about 15.

Food was obtained by several people, including rather tasty onion rings, and a big glass of fries. Yes, fries in a glass, with butcher paper added to the interior to make a sort of liner.

Clarkie had already called the bar, so despite those who also wanted to claim the bar (and we should have let them) Clarkie got the sponsorship. And we tried to move on to a Japanese sushi place a block further south, but they have a bar that, however, they never have open, so we ignored them and headed back up into the Market proper.

Have I mentioned there were a lot of us? Fortunately, the Pike Place Bar had a space big enough for us to all sit in, but it was close.

The waitress came and took all our orders, except for Clarkie and Melody, who ordered at the bar. Clarkie, as was often the case, had forgotten his ID, so he was actually, and its a first for us, asked to leave the bar. He eventually made his way to Campagne, where they were less particular, and waited for us there.

Meanwhile, the lone waitress took a while to get our great mass of drinks. Double wells were only a dollar more, and Julie, who had claimed the sponsorship, said what the hell, so we got the doubles. It was a wise or foolish move, depending. Wise, because at least that way we got a drink worth having. Foolish, because the extra dollar was mostly spent on mixers. The drinks kind of sucked. A lemon drop was served, a la Cassis but worse, entirely rimmed with salt. The normal sized wells reminded one of a drink from Murphy's. Or of Gulliver trying to drink from a Lilliputian glass. It was just pitiful.

The splitting of checks was easily accomplished, thank goodness, but the bringing of the bills had been slow. Which was alright, because there was good mingling at the Bar, with the lot of us finally getting a little sauced and feeling like we could really talk.

Julie, as mentioned, got the sponsorship, and then we went on to meet up with Clarkie at Campagne, or rather, Cafe Campagne, as will be explained.

Melody had departed en route. She is going through a rough patch, and we were glad she came out with us at all. Much love to Melody.

We arrived at Campagne, to see that their bar was neither large nor empty, such that there was no space for us. However, Clarkie was there, with a couple of ladies who turned out to be both married but both looking. Trevor ended up staying upstairs with him a moment, while the rest of us searched out the downstairs establishment, Cafe Campagne.

The staff there began at once to set up a large table for our large group, but then we observed they had only wine and beer. However, upon being asked, the staff assured us they could simply head upstairs and get whatever mixed drinks we might need, and it was no trouble. It was one of several very obliging moments.

As we sat, Jesse and Mindy decided they were heading out, but Jesse left fundage to sponsor the bar, realizing, I think, that he was far too associated with Brandon, me and most of our sponsors to never actually pick up a bar. Thus, he joins Glen in the rare, Sponsored A Bar He Didn't Actually Hang At category, although unlike Glen, he does live in state. (Jason's note--We do hope Glen can make it out for at least the final bar. It would be very depressing if he just kept shovelling money at us, and I couldn't even buy him a drink.)

While we waited for drinks, we all set to talking in various groups across the table. I had a delightful talk with Michelle, both of us at the very end of the table. Trevor and Clarkie rejoined us, a couple of Marla's friends appeared and then just as quickly departed, and then Hayf joined up with us. Here begins my line of apologies to that good soul, as I say after the fact but within these journals pre-emptively, that I apologize for what happened at Chez Shea.

We had our drinks, which were decent, the bill arrived, and somehow we kept on moving. We were sure where to go next, as had often been the case, but we decided on Il Bistro, which we had walked by earlier. It was a mistake, but who could tell?

Jesse gets the sponsorship at the very obliging Cafe Compagne, where they didn't even mind that we were quietly loud and perhaps drove out a few customers a bit earlier than they might have left. It was a nice looking place, and the staff was very good, so of the bars of the night, it's one of the three that deserve a revisit.

Okay, there were a lot of us. And Il Bistro was packed. But still, when you seat 14 people at two 4 person tables, you can only expect that it will go poorly. And it did.

The service was slow and negligant. The conversation was good. We complained to each other a lot about how bad the place was as the time dragged onward.

The drinks weren't good, either, though they were better then the Pike Place Bar. That's not saying much.

There's not much more to say, except that Safety Monkey got the sponsorship, which was swell of him.

Outside, the party started to break up as it were. Julie and Monkey departed, along with Wolf and Emily and Trevor as I recall. So it was just Brandon and me, Marla, Michelle, Jim, Hayf and Clarkie who continued, I think. I say just, but that's still 7, so it's not like we got all small or anything. And on we went, in quest of mythical bars, before finally finding another one.

It was 12:30 am as we wandered for Place Pigalle, the seven of us still left of the many who had once been with us. Last call at Pigalle was 1 am, but we were only a block away after wandering aimlessly to look for three bars that were all closed, or not present at all. Place Pigalle turns out to be at the very end of one of the back halls of Pike Place Market, and you go up a little exterior staircase to get into the bar, which isn't very large.

But it was friendly. The bartender came out to take our orders and get our drinks, and I think we may have carded him, first of the night to get one. But I'm not certain. It was a bright little bar and eatery, little being the main thing, but then, hidden as it is, I suspect it gets a small enough crowd for the site to suit.

We got drinks, we talked. We'd been out, Jim, Clarkie, Brandon and me, for just about 6 hours now. I was kind of lit, but kind of tired, as well. And we were still discussing one more bar.

It was a pleasant little hideaway, and a good place to head for drink at about mdnight, and it's number two of the bars I'd return to.

Clarkie got the sponsorship, and we moved on, planning to hit Chez Shea. Once again, as the dread moment grows close, I'll apologize to Hayf. Sorry, Hayf.

A dim and pretty sort of bar, the sort of place you'd like to hit as your last of seven in a seven hour odessey. And that's what was happening. Hayf had claimed the bar, but wouldn't actually sponsor it, and with great justification. I'll explain in a moment.

So we sat, and we ordered drinks, the seven of us around two little tables near the windows. We remained in Chez Shea for an hour, pretty much, until almost 2 am. There was talking, and sipping of drinks, and then something happened.

We were talking in some fashion about the ancient House of Pain toast, "To Chris", and then Hayf said something about how that was a stupid toast. Now, as I was rather drunk, my motivations are a bit fuzzy, but I was offended at his remark, and I had a glass of water in my hand. So for some reason, I thought it would be both appropriate and funny if I tossed the water in his face. Which, being somewhat drunk, thought became action, and suddenly about five ounces of water were becoming rather acquainted with Hayf's face and shirt and such.

A stunned silence descended. The question, "What the hell was that?" was probably asked, although I don't recall the exact wording. I attempted to defend my actions. It was futile and stupid, because there was no reason at all. Hayf took it pretty well, in that he neither stormed off nor popped me one, but only said that another man might, and instead poured a full glass of water over my head. Which was a good beginning.

Somehow, it should be noted, the bartender didn't kick us out. I'm not sure how that didn't happen.

I bought Hayf a drink and apologized, he decided correctly not to pick up the bar, Clarkie said he would, and for the remaining fifteen minutes or so, all was well, but then we had to depart. It was closing time.

We stumbled out to the street, the last seven, and as many people seemed to want food, I said everyone should come back to my house, and so it happened.

Once again, I apologize abjected for being a dumbass. Very sorry, Hayf.

Clarkie got the sponsorship, the last he'll possess unless something very odd happens, and we finished our Pike Place bar crawl.

And there's another shocker in the sponsorship race. Clarkie, having reached the total of 21 bars, has suddenly withdrawn by process of moving to Texas with 12 hours notice. Thus, his total is frozen at that point, and it looks like Wolf is assured of the title of local winner, since his two fiercest competitors are both gone, Bridgit on October 25, Clarkie on November 29.

Stay tuned for possible further information about the Clarkie sponsorships.

We went out with Marla, on a quick run to a couple of the north end bars we have yet to pick up. Peking Palace is way north on Greenwood, and it's a Chinese restaurant bar, of course. But it's a bit different, or at least, it was on the night we were there.

It was pretty dead, but that was okay. We were told on karaoke nights, just later the night we were there in fact, it gets pretty wild. But I don't much care for karaoke, so it's okay. But the bar, while pretty much just a typical tables and chairs, padded both kind of place, was illuminated by strings and strings of slowly flashing white lights, very many such strings so that the whole ceiling was a magical fairyland of light. Further lights, amber colored, were behind the bar.

Our bartender Krista was really very cool, but she had a problem. It was her birthday, and the night before she had gotten very smashed. So Krista was, apparently, very hungover. Her energy levels were low, she was very tired, and while she was interested in talking about the quest, and did so for quite some time, she never really cracked a smile. Brandon thought at first she wasn't actually interested. But no, it was the hangover. So an important tip, boys and girls, remember that many of your bartenders might also be drinkings, and their lack of vim might just be the aftereffects.

Anyway, we had good drinks, and we had a good talk with Krista, but the Peking Palace is a bit far our north for me to hit it often. It was a good spot to drop in to, though, and I liked the visit. Many dangling lights are a good idea.

This place is right next to Greenwood Cheers, which we went to with Mel a good while ago, but we had no idea this place existed. It seems to be the common case with these bars. Despite sharing a parking lot, a couple people in the Pub said they'd never been to Cheers.

Which is okay, because the bars are a lot alike.

The Pub is a bit brighter, a bit more open, and it has more pool tables. There's not much else to say. They were having a birthday party earlier, so there was this scary purple frosted cake there. Also, we ran into Steve from the bookstore, in a surprising first. Not surprising because we ran into him, but because it took so long. Steve's a big drinker, who of all the people I know has hit probably the second most bars in Seattle after we who are on the quest. At first, he could almost always say he'd been to the bars we'd been to, when it was a lot of north end places. But not quite as much lately. But then, with a lot of the bars we're going to lately, nobody's been there, so it's no shock.

We had our drinks and chatted, and Steve came over and we made fun of one of our coworkers, and after a while Brandon, Marla and I left, because, well, we were done.

Nothing much to the place.

Type: Neighborhood
Class: Average

The Two Bells, on the edge of Belltown, is easily missed but should not be skipped. This diner style bar really belongs in a truck stop somewhere in the Midwest. Instead of keep to themselves truckers there are keep to themselves Belltowners. The abstract oil paintings make for an interesting mix and clash of color and style. Strangely though, it works.

There are three seating choices: the long diner style bar, simple broken red pleather booths, or regular table seating in the restaurant portion. We chose the pleather booths away from the door (it was just too cold up front.)

The 50’s style bar is seated with the round 50’s style stools that makes me think of soda fountains and sharing pie. Hanging above the bar is a giant air freshener. I really hope that the 3 foot long pine tree is just a mock up cause I just couldn’t take that much fresh pine scent. Jason tells me that the bathroom wall is lined with pictures of all the past Two Bells staff. Our friendly older bartender was in almost every picture on the wall.

He slung drinks like an old timer as well. Making them large, strong, and not terribly tasty. The booze is what is important. Not the palette. I liked the Two Bells and thank Sean for both his recommendation and his sponsorship. I give the Two Bells 3 and half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: Upscale

Tuesday night is Tango Night at Fernando’s Hideaway. This stark and sleek, black and white lounge was filled with the crackles of record played tango music. Couples filled the small makeshift dance floor in the back. Raised up from the rest of the bar these couples glided in an ever shifting circle of dance steps. The Seattle dichotomy has never been so pronounced as at this meeting of the Seattle Tango Dancing Club. Couples dressed to the nines danced with couples dressed in Khakis and Polo shirts. One couple in particular was amazing. One couple was so enraptured with the moment that the rest of us did not exist. Most couples were enjoying themselves but were more concerned with the steps than with anything else. Years of practice and partnering is what made the stars shine for our free premier entertainment.

Seated at a small table at the edge of the dance floor we could only stare in wonder and laugh about how amazing this find was. It was entrancing and kind of dirty at the same time. I felt like a voyeur watching these couples dance the Tango to the throaty, almost sultry, singer that filled the air. When not dancing, most of the couples were sitting in the large black dimpled half moon booths that you can get lost in. I wanted to sit in one, but I was unwilling to breach the imaginary boundary that separated the bar from the dance floor.

Our waiter, who I presume did not usually work on Tuesdays, was entirely bemused by the whole spectacle. We asked him what was going on and he told us about how the club had lost their last site and now danced here on Tuesday nights. I am not sure that he really knew what to make of it, being fairly young.

The longer we sat there, drinking our $4.50 not amazing drinks, the further and further through time I fell. Eventually I landed sometime in the 40s. Content to do nothing but sip my drink and watch the couples spin eternally round and around through time and memory. Each a reminder that we simply do not dance enough and that the true meaning of courting is slowly seeping away. Pushed aside by the pounding beats of techno and the harsh drums of rock and roll.

I almost hate to rate Fernando’s Hideaway at all for fear of tarnishing its memory and knowing that no rating I give it can either live up to the night or could be repeated by the readers of our website. Well, what must be done, must be done. I give it 4 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

It is Monday November 26, 2002 and Jason and I are scrambling to meet up with a reporter for the Seattle Times. This is turning point for us. This is our first actual interview for a newspaper. Melanie McFarland writes, in essence, a pop culture column called Pop Fizz. She goes to all of the club openings and generally has her finger on the pulse of the nightlife community. She had heard about us, but had also received our press release and she wanted to do a column on the quest.

After the Friday night snafu we were a little concerned, but that was more us than anything else. All things being equal though this small meeting of just us and her, was a much better setting for her to get a feel for what we are all about. Friday night was fun, but with the group swelling at one to 16 people, it was not a true depiction of our quest. I admit that it is the perception I would like people to have (lots of people, good looking women, lots of fun.)

After some schedule juggling we managed to meet up with her. Since Jason needed to be in Capitol Hill I chose two places at random that were close together. They both turned out to be gay bars. I had no idea. With names like the Madison Pub and the Seawolf Bar and Galley it kind of snuck up on me.

Melanie arrived wearing a large fuzzy orange jacket (that you couldn’t miss) and had were hair tied back in a pony tail. She picked up our drinks at the Madison Pub and I returned the favor at the Seawolf. She seemed very excited when I told her that she had just made our Sponsorships page. I think it snuck up on her since she was just being polite (she was interviewing us.) The funny thing to me about this, is that technically we are doing her a favor by agreeing to be interviewed, but to us, we are more excited that she would want to interview us. It is strange how perception can be so totally different.

The hour and a half that we spent with Melanie was a lot of fun. It was not like an interview at all. We pretty much talked about the quest and told the strange and funny stories that we always tell to people who are interested. The only real difference is that she was taking notes. Melanie would ask questions, but they were not any different than the questions that anyone else asks. I never got the feeling that she had a hidden agenda or that she was trying to find an angle that would purposely make us look bad. I am sure that if she wanted to, she could twist what we said into an anti drinking campaign or a spotlight on two losers with no lives, but that was not all the feeling that I got from her. It was not like we were talking with that argumentative dink on CNN or one of those news channels (I can’t think of his name.)

After an hour and half we were all having a good time and I think that it would have continued if Jason did not have anywhere to be. I hope that Melanie will be at our Last Bar event and that she will come out with us again in an unofficial capacity. She was just generally smart, fun, and funny. If you ever get a chance to go out with her you should. You will be hard pressed to find a better conversationalist. Well, except for us maybe.

-wOOt

Brandon and I were going out to meet with our missing guest from the Pike Place crawl. It was Melanie, who works for the Seattle Times as a columnist, and was interested in writing a column about us. Before anyone wonders why anyone would want to interview us, she has a pop culture column, so we do fit in.

Brandon had picked a couple of bars that fit my need to get dropped off at a friend's house as soon as possible, which meant we were on Capitol Hill, at two bars very close to each other. The first one was the Madison Pub, a small looking place just next to Chop Suey, and we arrived just a moment before our meeting time.

We entered, and there was no sign of Melanie, who was to be wearing a furry orange coat. But, in fact, there was no point of a woman at all. The Madison Pub was a gay bar, and one that only the boys hang out at. It's a plain sort of bar, with a couple pool tables, a lot of raw wood, and a generally working class/divey feel, kind of odd for a gay bar.

So we sat and waited a moment, and then Melanie arrived, in a very orange, very furry coat. There was no way we couldn't have recognized her. We introduced ourselves and went to order drinks.

Melanie offered to pick up the bar, and we told her she just made the sponsor's page, which she liked. She ordered the nightly special cocktail, which the bartender didn't know how to make, so he just tossed something together. As it turned out, it was pretty decent, and since it was all booze, it was pretty strong.

We sat in the back and got interviewed. It was weird, because it was like an actual interview as opposed to the radio interviews we've had. Melanie was asking questions and actually looking for answers, instead of for soundbites. But at the same time, it was really friendly and informal, and Brandon and I just rambled on with some of our answers, telling odd stories and asking Melanie questions too.

After a while, though, we needed to move on to the next bar, which was the Seawolf. Melanie had been there before, and she said it was quite the place. She said she'd made a really good impression on a bartender who didn't know how to make a cosmo, and had even gotten a knick-knack worth a free drink. So, as we wandered, we kept talking, and then we arrived, since the Seawolf was only a block away around the corner.

The drinks at the Madison were pretty strong, and the prices weren't bad at all. Melanie picked up the drink, getting our first "official" sponsorship.

The Seawolf is a nautically-themed gay bar, and there were again no women in sight. However, the feel was much more casual and friendly, and the bartender was a nice guy who said he made a great cosmo when Melanie asked about one, and so I had one, too. Brandon offered to get the drinks, and all was good as we adjourned to the back "dancing" table to have our drinks.

It was the "dancing" table because it's high, wide and sturdy, so apparently a number of men of various degrees of sobriety will find themselves on it, dancing, and it keeps the name, I guess. It's right by the bathrooms, which are labelled Seamen and Seagals, but you need a key for the ladies' room, which is odd, since no one would be using it. Or perhaps not so odd, since with no one needing it, you could be in there forever...

Anyway, we sat and continued the interview, getting into more details here. I was talking more by this time than at the Madison Pub, where Brandon really did much more talking than I did. And I was really enjoying hanging out with Melanie, who is a fun person in general. I expected to be kind of intimidated by her, since she works for a Paper and all that, but it wasn't at all like that. I don't know why I expected it, of course. Reporters are just people, and it's the local paper and all that. But it seems kind of removed from the rest of us, so what can I say?

It was getting close to 8, so I had to head out, and we wrapped up the interview with a few more questions, and then we had to part. We told Melanie she should come out with us just for fun, she said she'd like that, and then the waiting began for the column to come out. That is, we parted ways, and just the waiting was left.

Melanie was great to hang out with, and it was a good night. The cosmo actually was quite good.

Where once the Poor Italian Cafe and Corner Bar took up two store fronts with one liquor license, now there's a split. In the old Poor Italian space, there's now the Buenos Aires, run by the same people who run the lovely Gitano.

Buenos Aires isn't as charming, however. It's a nice looking place, and I really liked the look of the bar, but it's not in great shape. Even though it's just opened, I think they held on to a lot of the Poor Italian things. The chairs were kind of rickety, the tables as well, the floor tiles chipped. The look is nice, but it's kind of shabby underneath, and it's not great as a result.

The drinks weren't anything superb either. They weren't awful or anything, but they were nothing remarkable. However, since we expected them to be about 6 dollars, and they were under 5, it was a pleasant price surprise, but not a great deal in comparison to the rest of the world.

The staff was friendly and obliging, but there was nothing like our bartender at Gitano. No one called us her ducklings.

It's an okay place. But not great, so it can be skipped.

The other half of the old Poor Italian, the Corner Bar, is now Mickey Flynn's. It may sound vaguely like an Irish bar, but it's not, in any visible way. The space is the same as the Corner Bar's, but they've taken out the couchs were the friends of the bartenders once sat and drank, and now there's tables all about. This is due to the need to fulfill the dining portion of a liquor license, now that the Poor Italian is occupied by a seperate establishment entirely.

We sat at the bar in this, the opening week of the new bar, and there was already a decent crowd. Couples on double dates, local drunks, random barhoppers (not just us), it was a mix of people. The drinks were nothing special at all, and in that way it was also pretty close to the old Corner Bar. But I liked the look of the place, and the fact that the bartender apparently was willing to pay attention to someone other than their friends, which is a good change.

There's nothing more to really say. It's just a bar, but as it's just opened, if you want to be a regular someplace, you can get in on the ground floor here, and you can do worse.

Type: Restaurant
Class: Average

This small bland Mexican restaurant is probably one of the best places in Freemont to get a drink, if you get there before they close. They have a cute waitress, bring you chips and salsa and have $2.50 wells on Happy Hour which is from 4 to 6 and 9 to close (10 or 11 I believe.)

They have a view of the water, some quiet music, and the only decoration worth noting is the giant painted wooden sun above the bar.

There is little else to say about this place. I give 2 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Denny’s
Class: Average

This local Thai food chain has recently renovated and added a bar to their restaurant. The newly expanded area is quite a bit different from their original incarnation. I am told that it is much better looking now.

The bar area is small and doubles as additional seating if the restaurant overflows. The bar is a long curved affair, made of dark wood, and covered with lots of knickknacks and bar supplies. The walls are red, the ceilings are high, and there are lots of little Thai touches throughout the place. Some are of Asian origin and some of Indian (I believe) origin.

The kitchen is open air and the food is pretty good and not too expensive.

About the only thing notable that happened here is that Jason bogarted my story. I hate it when he does that. “I tell it better.” Or “I’ve already started telling it.” Damn him!

My $4 happy hour Mai Thai was very good. I give Jai Thai 3 Martini Glasses out of 5 because I don’t want to bother putting much effort into parsing out a real rating.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Average

This large “classic” themed restaurant is done up in the dark woods and the tile of an old tyme establishment. In fact, it reminds me a lot of Charlie’s on Broadway. There is a long dark wood bar filled with locals and a young efficient bartender. An eclectic mix of ceiling lamps hang about the restaurant. In the background, some excellent bartender chosen jazz played.

We sat at a small round table that barely sat 3, but we managed. My drink was fine for $4. Really there was nothing thrilling about this place and to be honest I don’t really want to review it. It is not the place’s fault but a conversation happened here that I would rather not dwell on. While Jason was a part of it, he was not the culprit. I will not discuss it further.

Anyhow, through little fault of its own, I am giving Seattle Catch Seafood Market 2 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5. Maybe it deserves more, but probably not, unless you are a local.

-wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: Midscale

I was not thrilled with having to come out to the “middle of nowhere” while still remaining in Seattle. Sitting on the edge of Lake Washington, down the road from Gas Works park is another of Ivar’s restaurants. At least it is not named Ivar’s Leagues of Salmon. That I just could not take it.

This “theme” restaurant has a large totem pole outside, is built as if it were a log cabin and has a full on Indian Salmon theme. All of the salmon are stylized in the ancient Indian tradition, I assume.

The most important thing about this Ivar’s is that they have a daily special with good booze for $3.50. Today it was an Absolut screwdriver. We both had one. Some days it is a Martini, others a Mai Thai. Whatever it is, $3.50 sounds good to me.

Our service was slow, despite the large number of staff running past our table constantly. Eventually we were taken care of, but once we waived away menus we pretty much ceased to exist, thus forcing me to stalk our waitress to get a check.

I had a nasty encounter on the way to the bathroom. After winding the long way through the restaurant, only to find myself back at the main lobby, I ran smack dab into 14 teenage girls singing Christmas carols. At least it was some sort of semi religious Christmas based schlock and like a vampire fleeing garlic I was forced to flee in terror and cower back at my table. I could only hope that they would be gone when it came time for us to leave.

I give Ivar’s 2 Martini glasses out of 5 and that is only for the good drink special.

-wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: upscale

This upscale restaurant is nestled in the back of a strange little mall near the edge of Lake Washington, across the street from Gas Works park. The mall has an upscale blown glass boutique and some sort of boat or auto parts store. There may have also been a hairstylist as well, but I’m not quite sure.

The Meridian is very sleek and elegant. Shining bronze, polished wood, and luscious smells fill the entire place. They served a very good $4.75 Gin and Tonic in a large frosted glass. Yes, I know that I haven’t had a G&T in something like a hundred and fifty bars, but I felt this was a place that wouldn’t disappoint, and they didn’t.

Their appetizer list was priced like the entrees I usually buy so we skipped them.

Then it happened. The thing that I try to avoid during December, but it snuck up on me. All of a sudden, I began to realize that I could hear Christmas music in the background and without any warning I was filled with … HOLIDAY RAGE!!! Why did such a nice place have to play crappy Christmas music. Shouldn’t they be playing jazz or soft instrumentals or … well … something. But noooo. They had to play crap that just pisses me off. It really is too bad, because I really did like them. Oh well.

I give the Meridian 3 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Midscale

This nice local restaurant is the only full bar in Sand Point. In fact it is the only bar until you reach the edge of University Village, which I guess isn’t that far, but considering the usual bar density in this city, that is kind of amazing. There may be some service bars, but that is all.

Walking into this obviously well to do local dining establishment a large white sign proclaims “Non-smoking”. Oh well. We won’t be staying that long anyhow.

The long cherry bar is very nice and is filled with table waiting hopefuls (except for us.) There are interesting, but ugly, paintings hanging around single color walls. My drink was decent and strong. I liked the up tempo, bartender chosen jazz.

So the drinks were $4 each, but they charged an extra dollar for juice. A whole buck? They better crush those cranberries by hand to charge that much. Sheesh, who do they think they are? Cassis. No, I’m kidding. Even Cassis only charged an extra 50 cents for juice.

Anyhow, there is no reason to come out here unless you are local and even then, don’t bother. Drive a little and go to a real bar. I give the Sand Point 1 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

A small local chain of Indian restaurants, the Queen Anne location was the object of the quest today. I'm not sure if they really qualified; they had a full bar, and it even looked like a bar, but there were no bar stools at all. But we figured, what the hell, we were there, so we sat at a table and got a drink.

It was very early in the day, just a few minutes after noon, and we were out drinking this early because Clarkie had just left the state that morning with no warning, so I wanted a drink. This being the case, the restaurant was filled with the delicious smell of the Indian buffet, not possessed of a great many items, but very fresh and tasty smelling.

The decor was typical Indian place, with very white table cloths, a lot of wood, and various religious objects whose symbolism would be entirely lost on the American public.

The drinks were okay, but not very impressive. Price-wise, they were pretty spendy. And overall, there was nothing to really like about the place.

In several ways, this didn't seem at all a Chinese restaurant bar. First off, the place was very nice looking. Not that some Chinese places don't look nice, they do, but it was generic nice. It was almost hotel bar generic nice. Nothing to really grasp onto.

Secondly, the drinks. They weren't very nice. They were pretty damn plain, actually, and with no real strength. So what can you do?

The service was quick and friendly, though. And there was some old woman at the corner table, looking like she might once perhaps have been in a film a great long time ago and was still living off of residual ego. If she had been wearing a turban, it would have been perfect.

And that was all. Glen got the sponsorship, cause we'd left him out for a week or so. And then we set off to catch the forbidden fruit of Nordstrom's.

Brandon has long since grown to hate even the idea of this place. A full bar, in a department store (really, you need one, don't you?), with shitty hours that don't even match that of the store itself. And of course, we were going on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, a very busy day for all your shopping types, so the place was just packed.

So packed, in fact, that they told us it was a twenty-five minutes wait. We were in a half hour spot a couple of blocks away, so there was no way that was happening.

We asked about the bar. They said there was no room. Brandon said we'd stand if we had to, because we just wanted a single drink. The hostess went to ask the bartender if that was okay, and mercifully, it was.

So we stood at the end of the bar, ordered drinks, and really quickly sucked them down. It wasn't the least awkward place to be, after all. We noticed how much food the people at the bar weren't eating, and thought you could live pretty well just off their leftovers if you wanted to.

The drinks were actually pretty good. The glasses were very nice. Really, other than the crowd and the shitty hours (and in Brandon's view, the setting) it was a good place, and if the prices were more reasonable, I might stop back. But it wasn't cheap, so let's not bother.

Another to Glen, and I thank him for the constant flow of sponsorships he sends our way.

Hey All,

I thought you would all be interested to know that we are in the Seattle Times today. Two weeks ago we did an interview with Melanie McFarland, who writes the pop culture column Pop Fizz.

Here is the article that came out today.

I am happy to report that I am quite pleased with the article. I find her choice of quotes amusing and unfortunately, yes, I really do use the words, "hot and burning passion." In fact I seem to use it a lot lately, but mostly that is in regards to my dislike of Holiday Music.

Anyhow, I hope to see Melanie out with us again because she was a blast to hang out and talk with.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Midscale

This local seafood place is almost always packed. Each month they have a different theme from around the world with decorations and a menu to match. This month it was Oaxaca (sp?). If you come here to eat, you better set aside a couple of hours, and 30 minutes to an hour of that will simply be spent waiting for a table (unless you get there at 5:00 when they open.)

The bar is small and really is just a waiting area for the eating. It borders on the side of the open kitchen providing the drinkers with some small amount of entertainment while they wait. Sitting at the bar requires more luck than anything else with about 5 seats to accommodate the masses of waiting patrons.

Jeff sponsored us here and in addition to the flavorful drinks we also had some various appetizers and whatnot. Jeff and Jason had just been to see the first film made by a guy we know. They had some very, ahem … interesting things to say about it. The cinematography was excellent and that it was a decent first film. Yeah, yeah, that’s the ticket.

Soft jazz played in the background, but the best part of the restaurant is bathroom. I know that sounds strange, but when you go in, they are playing language tapes from the featured region. The sayings the tapes teach are all kind of bizarre, not incredibly useful, but funny to listen to. Especially when you are not expecting this sort of entertainment in the bathroom.

Jeff and I talked about our recent relationship traumas. Both of ours were quite fresh having both stemmed from the party two nights before. I feel sorry for Jason as he was an unwilling bystander to this conversation. Anyhow, I give the Coastal Kitchen 2 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5 since it nice, but not a great place to go get a drink. The food is excellent though. Just don’t order the Simply Grilled Fish unless you like a lot of pepper.

-wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: Midscale

This tapas restaurant is fairly nice and has half priced wine on Monday (which it was.) Jeff and I split a bottle of $28 red white (for $14) and Jason got the requisite $5 well drink. The bartender was quite knowledgeable about the wines and helped us pick an excellent Spanish wine.

The bar is a long, tan, marbleized affair, but Tango’s the best feature is the booths. The booths are just plain big. Jeff is a big guy and he could sit in the booth and not have to move the table in order accommodate him comfortably. Most of the seating is dark wood which is offset by the soft lighting. The bronze fixtures added a touch of class. I love bronze or copper fixtures. I know that they are difficult to keep clean, but it is worth it.

The artwork was an interesting abstract style that mostly worked. When I look at abstract paintings I find that there is usually a particularly good piece, but then the rest are usually mediocre to decent. There are rarely two great abstract paintings in the same collection.

Tango is a great date place and if you like wine, the half price Monday is totally the way to go. I give Tango 3 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5. I do admit that the well is a little pricey, but if you stick with the wine, you will be pleasantly surprised. Besides, a wine drunk is the best kind of drunk for conversation and flirting.

-wOOt

This was a disappointment in so many ways.

First of all, as our regular readers know, I've long been denied any access to this bar. In fact, from my childhood on, I've never been able to set foot in it. I've leaned in, I've been confronted by a closed bowling alley, I've been told as I stood on the threshold that the bar was closed. But I've never stepped in.

Finally, I did. But that's part of the disappointment, so we'll get to it in a minute.

We had a really good time at bar 300, with the bowling. So we were going to do it again. But it wasn't to be. Nobody showed up on time, although Jim was only ten minutes late. Everyone was sick or out of town. So that kind of sucked.

So we decided not to bowl, which was too bad, but you don't want to be just three guys bowling once you're out of college, if you're not in a league. We just went to the bar, and ordered drinks.

Which means I finally got to walk into the bar.

It was small. And crappy. And obviously, no one ever went in there. Although in my mom's day, there were plenty of people in the place whenever I went to bum quarters off of her.

The Golden Tee game was 3 years old. I mean, what does that say?

Jim realized we had no sponsor and stepped up to the challenge, picking up our drinks. Which were pretty decent, really, but not at all worth the wait, and the various disappointments.

So thanks to Jim for showing up at the big 4-0-0 and picking up the sponsorship. Afterwards, we decided to hit another West Seattle bar or two, cause it just didn't feel complete, and so off we went.

Guess what? There's a place to hang out in West Seattle, and it's the Lizzard Lounge. This comfortable joint, with a great pyramid of a bar, is a casual, pleasant place, more like you'd expect in Belltown or Capitol Hill.

Our bartender was Donna, and she was a hoot. She'd been working there for several years, and knew all the bars in the area. So we talked about the quest and about bars and such, and we told her we really liked the Lounge, because we did. There's a goodly amount of seating, a little dance floor area in the back where they have DJs on the weekends, and an upstairs seating area with a view of the main floor and a pool table.

What was best was how friendly Donna was. And this was before she knew we were anyone in particular, and also to the rest of the customers. Just overall.

It seemed totally like the place to be, and not in a be-seen kind of way. Just like a cool sort of bar. Which we didn't expect on the west side.

The drinks were well priced, except for the 75 cent bump for juice, which is pretty high. Although since, we've had it once again, and a dollar bump at another place. So it's just one of the little trends we've run into. The drinks were pretty strong, the food was decent bar grub, and they whip up a tasty fresh honey mustard.

Overall, it was, with the exception of the kitchy and lost Admiral Benbow, probably the place in West Seattle that I've liked most.

Type: Sports Bar
Class: Midscale

This spacious lounge/sports bar is actually kind of hard to pin down. Being that it is located right next to the two stadiums there is a strong sports bar theme. However, it does not have the amusements that I would normally associate with a proper sports bar. There are lots of pennants, ESPN2 on the TV (Rodeo was on), and other sports bar accoutrements. Oh well. What ever.

F.X. McCrory’s has the longest row of taps I have ever seen. The twenty or thirty foot bar was just filled with them. I don’t recall them having any particularly amazing beers on tap, but then again, I wasn’t really paying attention. Behind the bar, the bartender had to use a ladder to get to the top shelf booze, not that we were going to be sending him anywhere near it. A two foot tall statue of a southern gentleman was placed high up on the bar like he was guardian.

As the only two people at the bar, we should have had better service. Once the drink was poured, getting our bartender’s attention was like pulling teeth. He did not even offer my an ashtray, despite my cigarettes and lighter being out. That is just poor form in my opinion.

My pen exploded in my pocket. I hate that. God damn Bics. That will teach me to put a pen without a cap in my pocket. I asked Jason about the new Donna Tart book (author of the Secret History – which is excellent). He got a hundred and twenty pages into it and then stopped. To sum up – great beginning, but it quickly turned into crap. Oh well.

I give F.X. McCrory’s 1 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Nightspot
Class: Average

This “Jazz Club”/Sports bar is attached to Tiki Bobs. In other words, this is where you come to get a slab of beef or slice of pie. The crowd was very young and there did not seem to be any couples. Lots of groups of guys and groups of girls, but until they were all drunk the real fun would not begin.

It is nights like these that I wish we could drink beer. They had Labatts (or some other crap) for 25 cents until ten. Instead we got $4 well drinks in plastic cups. I can always tell the really high end places when they give me a disposable plastic cup full of booze. What is this, a sporting event? The bartender did venture into the back room though to find me bitters. I do appreciate that sort of dedication.

The amount of sports and beer signage was just staggering in a place that wasn’t that big. Once again though, they are located within spitting distance of the two stadiums, so I guess it is almost required. The band they had for the night spent the whole time setting up so I have no idea if they were any good. Once again, there was Rodeo on the TV. Why does everyone put on ESPN2? What is wrong with ESPN (not that I watch either channel.)

The women were good looking and the drinks were cheap (at least until happy hour ended.) As far as meat markets go, I can’t imagine this one is all that bad. I give it 3 Martini Glasses out 5.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Midscale

This nice little dinner restaurant was our first stop on the way to taking Wolf to the airport. Nothing like getting your buzz on before jumping on a plane. We were also killing some time before going to pick up Melody. I love Melody, but why do women take so long to get ready? Of course when I saw her, I understood. Perfection does not come quickly.

The restaurant is painted in solid colors and all of the furniture is light pine and quite sturdy. The best part of the place though are the paintings. They are these gorgeous oil paintings that are full of color and beautiful imagery. The large painting that I loved, in blues and greens, was $2200. The smaller one that I could settle for, of a tree in the sunset, was $1100. We asked our waitress about them. She said that they were all done by the owner (Greg Gibbons) and that he used this restaurant as his own personal gallery. Normally it does not work, but I think he decorated the place to accentuate the paintings. Not the other way around.

The drinks came in large glasses and were decent booze. Wolf picked up this $4.75 sponsorship.

I recommend coming down here to check out the art, if nothing else. The place was packed, so I assume their food is good too. I give the Santa Fe Café 3 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Midscale

This large Italian restaurant is sunken into the street. Amazing smells greeted us and we walked in the door. Lovely exposed brick and soft lighting invited us further into the restaurant. Sitting in the back we were flanked by large wall murals of famous Italian icons. Each done up as a stylized paper rubbing. One was of the Mona Lisa and another of a famous Italian Statue (3 horses and maybe a chariot.)

We ordered a plate of Caprese (excellent) and Wolf picked up the $4.50 sponsorship. This looks, smells, and tastes like a great date restaurant. I must admit that it is a hard choice between this place and Miriani just down the street. Miriani wins on service, but this wins on atmosphere. I suspect that the food is a little better here, but the Miriani food was quite good.

Simpatico also has half price wine Mondays and I have seen coupons for them in a number of local coupon books. Coming here with a coupon is probably the way to go. We talked about at what point it is ok to use a coupon on a date. They seem so low rent. I know that it is bad form for a first or second date, but I figure that by the fourth or fifth date it should be ok. Jason mentions that if you are going dutch then a coupon is all for the better since you are both paying less (just don’t try to pay for your half with the coupon.)

I liked Simpatico and it is a good place for a quiet drink and to take a date. I give it 3 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: Average

This small lounge is attached to, so I am told, a pretty good sushi joint. We went there with Melody and Wolf and also randomly ran into Gwen. The lounge is called the Hannya Room. I think that Hannya means demon, based on all of the demon iconography that filled the room. The lounge itself was quite small with a single table and a medium length faux wood bar. There was barely enough room for me to squeeze past the stools so that I could order our drinks.

On the walls were a strange mix of demon masks and some b&w photography that was probably taken in the bar. The pictures were very “day in the life”. I was quite impressed with them. The strangest element of the evening was “A Charlie Brown Christmas” playing on the TV. It was surreal. Not quite as bad as the Golden Girls in Changes, but still very strange.

The crowd was a mix of Asians and Caucasians. One moment the groups would be keeping to themselves and the next there would cross group conversation. The dynamic was a little weird to watch (when I had a spare moment to actually pay attention.)

The drink was strong, $3.50, and was sponsored by … uh, me. DOH! Wolf had gone to the bathroom so I ordered and paid for the drinks. He had already picked up two bars so I just picked them up. Both Wolf and Jason looked at me like I was an idiot.

I liked this strange little place, but I don’t think I would go out of my way to come back here. I give it 3 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Restaurant
Class: Midscale

Some day you may find yourself on Queen Anne and thinking “I need some barbecue.” Well until very recently you would be SOL. Now, however, you have somewhere to go. Barbacoa (I believe it is an interesting way to spell Barbecue) just opened and is looking to add a little spice to Queen Anne.

The sign on the door says, “Yep” and “Nope” instead of open or closed. The crowd in here was definitely very local, but despite having been open for only 3 days there were a good number of people in here. There is not much in the way of décor, but it was nice and friendly. On tables there were salt and pepper shakers disguised as rocks. We didn’t even realize what they were at first.

My sidecar was fairly sour. I prefer them sweeter. I spent some time talking to one of the owners (Bob or John, I don’t remember which.) He humored me as I talked about the quest. I guess any publicity is good publicity.

Melody picked up this sponsorship (thank Melody). Oh, the drinks were kind of on the small side (as it says in my notes.) Other than that, I don’t have much more to say on it. Oh, Jason thought the bartender was very cute.

I give Barbacoa 3 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: Average

Mona’s is tucked away, off the beaten path, between I-5 and Greenlake. It is next to a tavern and seems to do pretty well for itself. It is an incredibly eclectic place with clientele to match. The crowd was quite hopping and fairly good looking. There was a group of people there who looked like they had just come from a wedding or a prom or something else that required suits.

The ceilings are high, interesting artwork hangs on the wall, and the dim lighting has a red twinge to it. The drinks are large, but kind of bland in flavor. The staff was all good looking and young. They would be equally comfortable in a record store as in a bar. Especially if it was on Newberry Street (in Boston.) For the Seattlites, that would be more like the north end of Broadway, but more so.

In my notes there is something about “Brandon the porn star conversation.” It then references “Ron Jeremy of Seattle.” I don’t remember the conversation specifically but it is true. If I were in porn, I would have to be “regular guy.”

Melody picked up this sponsorship. She really does get to pick up some good ones. I know that the review isn’t amazing of this place, but I enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere, good music and eclectic feel. I could see coming here for a drink if I was in the area (and I often am.) There might even be women here most nights, but who can say. I seem to be fixating, but I guess that is what happens once puberty kicks in.

I give Mona’s 3 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

This is the danger of getting a new game (Civ III expansion, actually). I haven't posted anything in 5 days, and I'm 11 days back now. Oh, well.

Anyway, on to the Two Bells. Sean had long ago claimed this bar, because he used to eat hear back in the day when he worked at EMP before there was an EMP. It was a Tuesday, not terribly late, and so we got in there before they closed up, whenever that is.

The place is a diner, really. An old style diner. Vinyl booths, not in the best of shape, a counter with round bar stools mounted on the floor, that sort of thing. But behind it are the bottles of booze, thereby changing the diner feel to a slightly seedy bar zone.

It was a nice place, though, with friendly staff who nodded in a general way at the bar quest, but then we didn't give the best explanation ever. The music was excellent, although it was nothing I recognized, just weird background trance kind of stuff. There are pictures of the staff through the years near the bathrooms.

The drinks were pretty decent, and the prices weren't bad. I understand they have incredible burgers.

Overall, it's a very good place, and I'll head back sometime, I'm sure. In the evening, for burgers and drinks, it's near the top, I think.

Sean picked up the sponsorship, which is cool, but then later he got another unexpected one, which is even cooler.

There's one really bad thing about this bar, which Brandon, Sean and I came to after the Two Bells, but I won't mention it until the very end.

We entered this tapas bar located on the ground floor of what is pretty much a retirement community, not expecting much. Other than this quest, I've never heard of the place, and the bartender at Two Bells said that a lot of old folks used to hang out there, drinking scotch and water.

However, it was a bit different than that. It was Tuesday, and Tuesday at Fernando's is Tango night. So there they were, eight or ten couples tangoing on a little dance floor, to lovely music that sounded as if it were coming right from old, scratchy records played on a Victrola or something. There was dim lighting, and drinking, and some people just sitting and watching (like us) and it was really like some sort of Wonderland experience. We fell down a rabbit hole, and here they were, dancing the night away.

Enchanted by the whole thing, we lingered at the Hideaway for quite a while, sipping our drinks and watching the dancers. Some of them weren't very good, it's true, but all of them at least had an idea what they were doing, and it was lovely to watch.

The drinks were okay, though not terribly strong. They weren't all that cheap, either. The tapas menu looks pretty good.

We loved the place. It was so suddenly unexpected and winning that there was no way not to love it.

Sean picked up the sponsorship, and we went home.

I said I'd leave it for last, so here it is, if you still want to know.

My drink smelled like wet dog. I've no idea how that's possible, since it was a normal tasting vodka cran, but there it is. I mean, totally like wet dog. This wasn't just a hint. It was like there was a schnauzer swimming around in there with the ice. Nobody else's drink had a smell.
Even with that, the place is a winner, though. But seriously, wet dog? What's the deal?

Type: Restaurant
Class: Midscale

This French restaurant (with a suspiciously Italian sounding name) made me all wistful for Paris. In the background played the soundtrack to Amelie. I love Amelie and now I am all wistful for it again. In the back they have a street sign for Boulevard Saint Germain. My hotel was just a couple of blocks from there. I would visit the café down there most mornings. It was so nice. It was a bit touristy, but so what. Tourists make Paris what it is. The Parisians can only support so many shops that don’t serve café or pastries.

This restaurant has high ceilings and giant paintings with numerous images of the French Flag throughout it. Enormous pink ashtrays sat behind the bar. I felt silly using one of them.

Our group turned out to be quite large. It was us, Sean, Jim, Trevor, and our special guest – Star. We hadn’t been out with her in a while and it was good to see her. She definitely adds a bit of zip to our regular outings.

I don’t remember much about the drinks other than that I spilled a glass of water across the table. Star picked up this sponsorship. Thanks Star.

Figaro Bistro was nice enough, but it was nothing special unless you want a bit of nostalgia for Paris. I give it 2 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Nightspot
Class: Average

This establishment is split into 3 different sections. On the left is the Mars Bar which usually has live music and a cover to match. On the right is Café Venus, which is a diner style restaurant with a relaxed feel. In the back is a bar. I don’t know if it actually has a name, but that is where we eventually ended up (since I couldn’t smoke in the diner until after 10 pm.)

Trevor had the following to say about this place. “With a fan lodged in the window providing a marginal source of ventilation, coupled with ratty booths, high barstools topped with women in low-rise jeans, this is a place you come to lounge sleazily and like it.”

The back bar is fairly small with a couple of 4 person tables and one large booth that we all squeezed into. The seat was not even though and it left a couple of us on the edge of a slope that was less than comfortable. Good music from the juke box poured into the small room as space saucer lights danced up above us.

Sean picked up this sponsorship despite not having a personal connection to the number. He did request it though.

I liked this place and would come back here for a casual drink or to wallow in my misery in a place where I wouldn’t be found. I give the Mars Bar 4 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Nightspot
Class: Average

This unlikely attachment to the Showbox music venue is really cool. It is split into two levels: an upper bar level and a lower lounging level. The bar area has a long dark bar with lots of cool green bar stools. An Asian bartender slung us our drinks. She was cute and friendly. I would have liked to spend some time at the bar, but when you are with a group it is just does not happen.

The downstairs was completely empty. We had the entire area to ourselves so we were chillin like villains. The benches were incredibly comfortable and were strangely … soft. Red cloth light fixtures provided just the right amount of mood lighting and funky jazz filled the void. I don’t know if that was the bar’s music or if it was coming from the venue itself. It would be a little silly if it was coming from venue I supposed.

We just generally chatted and enjoyed the company. Star regaled us with some bizarre stories and we had a good time. This was a good relaxer after the earlier debacle that happened between the Mars Bar and here. We walked 6 blocks in the rain to find out that a place on our list always had a cover. I remember Star saying that the Showbox had a bar with no cover but I don’t think anyone else heard it. For some reason I didn’t speak up.

The Green Room is now notable since it was picked up by Trevor. Despite having been out with us at least half a dozen times, Trevor has now finally picked up a place and will appear on our sponsors page. I give the Green Room 4 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Brandon, Marla and I got together to hit a few bars, picking up most of what's left of Fremont in the process. We started with Sergio's, a bar that's really obvious but which none of us had been to, so we ended up walking very much out of our way, and then back to the bar, which was right where it should have been if the navigator (me) had been paying attention.

It's a Mexican place, but I think it views itself as kind of high end Mexican, so there's none of the usual paraphenalia. There's just a smell in the air, and a few Mexicans in the kitchen, and the sort of accessories you might find at a Southwestern place. Overall, not as good as the kitsch factor of the usual Mexican decor.

The drinks were pretty decent, but not superb, but it was their late night happy hour, so the prices were good. They brought us all the chips and salsa I wanted to eat, which was a plus. And the waitress was very attentive; it made sense, since the bar wasn't exactly busy, but still, it was nice. Nothing terribly remarkable here, though, after all is said and done.

Thai food restaurants are really starting to muscle in on the bar scene, becoming the latest ethnic food trend to pick up on the profits of heavy drinking. Mexican places have been doing this forever, and most Italian places have a full bar available, if not physically present, and with Chinese places, it often seems more the point then the restaurant itself. However, a few food trends (Teriyaki joints, for instance) have totally skipped the bar idea, and even in many cases the booze idea. But Jai Thai, along with Thaiku, Typhoon, and sundry other Thai joints, is really getting in on it. Since we started our quest, three Jai Thais have opened bars, two of them at totally new locations in the little chain.

The Fremont Jai Thai, the oldest of the three, has the newest, and nicest, of the bars. It's dim and moody, with plenty of seating if you're part of a small group. There's no big tables, and most of the tables in fact have only two seats, so if there's more than four of you, think of another place or plan ahead, because the Jai Thai bar was also pretty full.

I ordered a Jai Thai Mai Tai, because it was a nightly special, and it was actually very tasty indeed. The price was good for a fancy sort of drink, and I was pretty pleased. Marla got an orange drop, which was also very tasty, if not quite as strong in flavor as it's cousin, the lemon drop.

While the other Jai Thais failed to impress, I really liked the Fremont location, and so I'll probably wander back in some time for food and a drink. Give the other two a pass and come to Fremont, at least until, in a week or two I bet, they open some other location.

I had no idea there was a bar here, and what pretty much amounts to a hipster bar at that. The crowd was indeed the young Seattle cool group, those that wouldn't be seen in the Ballroom next door if you paid them (well, depends on how much you pay them...). It was dark and suitable for being smoky, with music and various types engaged in conversations that seemed often to be rather involving for them. These were first date or drinks with the girls types.

We sat at a little table near the front, because there wasn't a lot of room. The drinks were pretty quick in coming, and were reasonably strong, although they were matchingly high in price, so while it suited, it wasn't exceptional. We talked for a goodly long while here, during which I explained to Marla how boys think, or at least a tiny portion of that mysterious subject. Shame my knowledge is never put to any personal use.

Anyway, it was a nice, mellow place to end the night, and so we did.

Type: Lounge
Class: Dive

With the passing of the Minnie’s in Capitol Hill, the Hurricane is now the undisputed king of post boozing food. If you get there before 2AM, you can even out your buzz, before packing away the pancakes and eggs.

The Hurricane serves large portions for good prices, but if you are concerned about cleanliness I recommend you stay away from here. For all I know, they have one of the best kitchens around, but for me, just walking in there makes me feel dirty. It might the build up of cigarette smoke on the walls or the look of the waitresses, but there is just something about the place that doesn’t feel right.

That having been said, I still love it. Some of my friends are not big fans of the Hurricane, but I like my spoons greasy. There is a separate bar in the back with a small stage. The staff is kind of draconian about IDing so don’t even think about trying to sit in there if you forget your ID in the car or something.

The lounge has painted surfboards, blue painted cinder block walls and a long L shaped bar. Their drink special was called Kermit’s Jizz. Doesn’t that sound tasty. Red picked up this sponsorship so thank you Red.

I give the Hurricane 3 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Lounge
Class: Average

This large lounge area looks like someone’s sitting room that was turned into a bar. It has very homey looking furniture, a large screen TV, and a fireplace. Fake plants bordered the bar providing a small privacy screen between us and the restaurant.

It is the night of the Two Towers and I am stressed out of my mind. The idiots at the theatre have decided to give out tickets for standing in line which are separate from the tickets you need to get in. So now, instead of everyone just standing in line and having a good time, everyone has scattered to the four winds and I am left to sort out these little tickets so that I can give them to people based on when they showed up.

Sitting at the table, my drink untouched, I sort these dozens of little green or orange tags. I count the number of tickets I have as well as the number of little tags. I split them into groups based on the number of people in each party and what not. I am not having a good time. I really need to write a letter to the fuckers who set this thing up. Earlier in the day, the woman with the tags showed up an hour and a half late. Like I don’t have anything better to do with my time than to wait for her. God, this day was nothing but one fuck up after another.

The 6th Ave was just fine. Nothing great, nothing wrong. Red picked up this sponsorship, so for that we thank him. I give them 2 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Hotel
Class: Average

This small uninteresting bar is the hotel bar for the Days Inn. It is small and dim with a short bar and a fireplace. There was a $15 cover to get in because of its overwhelming popularity. OK, I am kidding on both counts. It felt more like a bar you would have in your basement.

B&W pictures of old Seattle hung on the walls and a large screen TV sat in the corner. Bridgit kept tripping over Jason’s umbrella. “I hate it.” She proclaimed after tripping over it for the 3rd time.

There just is not a lot to be said about this place. The group was us, Alan, Bridgit, and Red. Red picked up another sponsorship. Thanks Red. I give the Green House 1 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

There's not so much to say about this bar, the first of three of the night. Brandon and I walked past the take out fidh and chips stand out front, and into the rather large restaurant. Like Ivar's on the waterfront, the bar had a dumb name, something about Whales this time, but I didn't care enough to notice.

The bar was spacious and rather busy, and it took a bit to get service, but it was understandable. When the drinks eventually did arrive, they were nothing to remark about, and the prices would have been pretty high except it was the daily special that we ordered.

Really, there's nothing at all notable about the place. So I'm done.

The smell hit us like a hammer as we walked in, the smell of delectable foodstuffs. Immediately, we resolved to order appetizers as we sat in one of the slightly worn booths of this reasonably upscale restaurant bar.

However, we then looked at the prices. For while most of the food read well, the prices were a bit high. There was nothing worth the risk, in price versus potential quality.

The drinks were pretty decent, though, even if they were also pretty expensive. The bar is obviously not the lure of the Meridian, as there weren't many people there, so the service was fast and attentive.

Sadly, I forgot the bar list in the bar, and it never reappeared, so we went for about a week without one.

We had already picked this place as the third bar of the night, and I had remembered the address, which is why the missing list went unnoticed until it was too late. It took a few wrong turns to get to the bar, very far out in the northeast of Seattle, but get there we did.

It was a nice little place, with the bar to one side and most of the seating for dining in the back. We just sat at the bar, and still thinking of the food from the Meridian, asked for menus. The pricing here was just as high, and the food seemed less appealing, so we just tossed aside the menus and got drinks.

The drinks were bland and serviceable, the pricing too high. The whole place was kind of like that, a neighborhood bistro kind of joint that had pretentions of quality and thus ended up with rather high prices overall. Not much reason to return, unless you live far out on Sand Point, in which case sadly for you it's the closest of your bar options.

Type: Restaurant
Class: Dive

This small Chinese food restaurant is nowhere where you might just accidentally run into it. Instead it is on the edge of Beacon Hill next to a Schuck’s auto supply and you should go find it. Jason, Clarkie and I ate here several months ago but could not order a drink since the only person who speaks enough English to pour one is the bartender. The bartender, it turns out, was this exceptionally nice younger Chinese woman who was just a complete doll. She poured a drink that would make Dodi (of the Baranof) proud and was both friendly and helpful.

We immediately noticed the Karoke playing. Normally this would really irk me, but today it was a middle aged Chinese man singing Chinese Karoke. For some reason, Karoke in another language just does not get on my nerves. As it turns out, English Karoke sung in with a strong Chinese accent does not bother me either. I think that is the humor value though, so maybe it is just the cruel streak in me.

Andy’s has recently been redone with new booths and new tables and looks nice, for what it is. A case with live crab sits off to one corner. The bar is small but serviceable. The Karoke selection is staggering. Wolf, a lover of Karoke, said that their selection was amazing. He plans to bring back some of friends for drunken Karoke. I might actually like to see that.

I recommend coming all the way out here for this place, or if you are local, stop by. We had been joking that Unchained Melody is the deal breaker and that if someone starts singing it, you must immediately retaliate with, “Check Please!” Not two songs later did they break out “the Melody.” Wolf picked up this sponsorship and having just gotten off a plane the drink was well needed.

I give Andy’s Chinese Food 3 and a half Martini Glasses out of 5. The only thing they are really lacking are patrons and atmosphere. They do have strong assed drinks, great Karoke, and an amazing bartender.

-wOOt

Type: Nightspot
Class: Average

Walking through this unlikely club in my Columbo jacket, I couldn’t help but hear the word, “Narc” echo through my head. I don’t know if anyone actually noticed (or cared), but I sure felt it. This nightspot is known as a nightclub and a music venue. They play techno, dance, and other large varieties of electronica. On the weekends there is a second level that they open up. We didn’t see it (it being Thursday.)

The main room is large with couches around the edges, a large dance floor, and a flirting island at the edge of the dance floor. The bartender poured us strong $3.50 drinks and they tasted decent. Wolf picked up this sponsorship. There was some excellent art hung here, but the prices were outrageous for the place. I can only assume that they were going with the second method of pricing art for an amateur artist. The first is price them reasonable or low and hope someone buys them, even though you know they won’t. The second is to price it so high, that it makes you feel good knowing that no one will buy them and you know why. This way you don’t have to question whether they are good enough or not. These happened to be excellent, but not when priced at $1100 and up. There were a couple of crappy $200 but they were not worth that price.

I plan to come back here for an event some night. It looks like they get a great crowd (everyone here was young and some of them were even good looking.) There were lots of signs about parking and noise, so you know they have trouble with cops.

I recommend Aristocrats and give it 4 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

Type: Nightspot
Class: Midscale

As we see it (Jason, Wolf, and I) the Standard Café is unsurpassed in 3 areas: Jazz, Comfortable Booths, and Pot Sticker Sauce. First, the Jazz. We walked in off the street and for no cover heard the Milo Peterson Quartet. They were excellent and play every Thursday evening, rotating in a different guest player each week. There are few places in Seattle where you can get good, reliable Jazz, for free. Second, the Comfortable Booths. These booths are large (able to seat 6 and rising about 6 feet high.) They are set at an angle that is perfect for reclining. A small table in the center of the booth is just the right distance for leaning slightly forward for a bite and settling back for your perfect view of the stage. Finally, the Pot Sticker Sauce. This PSS was so good, that we were drinking the dregs. If we could get small soup bowls of this, I think Jason and Wolf would be all over it. I want to take it down to the lab, turn it into a drug and sell it on the open market.

Having said all of that, everything else about the Standard is excellent too. Open a set of heavy wooden doors to enter. Walk up a long set of black and red carpeted stairs. Check in at the small hostess station with the white walls and tasteful decorations. Enter the main dining area for Jazz, great looking (and feeling) booths, as well as a standard compliment of tables. Order great food off of the reasonable (especially during Happy Hour) menu. Or, if you know the owner, go in the back room and play X-box with the other guys. It was all very strange.

The Standard Café is only open Wed through Friday (and maybe Saturday.) This is because they spend so much time renting it out. I want my wedding reception to be held here and damn the cost. Of course I say that now. I met Milo Peterson and he introduced me to Jay, one of the co-owners. They were both great guys and I hope to return soon. There is lots of history to this place, but I don’t have time to get into it here.

I loved the Standard and give it the almighty 5 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

After seeing a movie that rates as one of the worst that I've seen (it was an independent sort of thing) Jeff and I were very glad to be able to meet up with Brandon for some drinks. We were up on Capitol Hill, and Coastal Kitchen was in the area, so we decided to go there.

Jeff and I got to take a look at the menu before Brandon arrived, and the food looked good, so we decided we'd order a little something. The featured area, which apparently Coastal Kitchen always has one, was Naples, and the Neapolitan menu was looking pretty tasty.

So when Brandon arrived, we ordered food and appetizers, and Jeff got a big salad. All the food turned out to be just about as good as we expected, and the drinks were pretty tasty as well, so it was a good visit.

The restaurant is a very functional looking place, with a more isolated and intimate area in the back. The booths, one of which we sat at, are pretty comfortable.

Jeff picked up the sponsorship, which was wonderful of him, and we moved on to hit another bar, because it was still pretty early.

Tango has 1/2 price wine Mondays, and Brandon was seduced by the idea. He and Jeff decided to take advantage of the offer, and asked what a good Spanish red might be, since Tango is pretty much a tapas/Spanish bar, and the bartender was able at once to recommend one.

The drinks took a long time to get served, which was kind of unfortunate, but we were having good conversation, so it was alright. The wine showed up first, before my cocktail (keeping in mind that by our rules at least one of us must have liqour at each bar), and Jeff sniffed the cork, sipped the wine, and nodded in approval.

My cocktail was fine, but nothing remarkable, but that didn't matter. It was all about the wine. We were able to move from the bar to a table after just a moment, and then we lingered, sipped wine, and chatted about how dating sucks. The wine, which I ended up with a glass of, was tasty and mellow, having none of the nasty tannin aftertaste that wine often presents to me.

Tango is dark and intimate, cozy and comfortable, and I really liked the place. I think that its a great place to hang out with, on a Monday, with some very good wine and a few friends.

Jeff picked up the sponsorship once more, and we thank him.

Type: Lounge
Class: Average

This is another Uptown China Restaurant, except that the bar area is smaller (with a 5 seat bar and two, two person tables.) It was clean, dull, and there is no reason to come here for a drink. The service was bland and vaguely personable.

I give them 1 Martini Glass out of 5.

-wOOt

A staple of the Mariner's crowd, Brandon and I had already tried twice to get in this place, both times just shortly after it was closed for the night. This time, we figured we were early enough, so we walked up and were indeed able to enter. The bar was vast and mostly empty, and was definitely your sports crowd sort of sports bar, lots of four person wooden tables and booths, lots of sports memorabilia, lots of televisions.

At the bar, there was a barrier of sorts. There are 30 taps in a row, all down the bar, each seperate. As a result, it was like being on the other side of a colonnade, with all the pillars between us and the bartender. It made it very obvious this wasn't a bar to just hang out in, but rather one to watch the TVs, and drink the beer of you choice, while facing away from the bar.

The service was pretty slow, funny for how empty they were, but the bartender was getting ready to close. The drinks weren't worth the effort of three tries to get to the place, and were pretty bland in fact. They were also pretty expensive, but what can you expect? It's a sport fan venue.

So we drank, and we left, and it wasn't good, but it was over.

I suspect they were remodelling this place prepatory to becoming "Bar and Oven" instead of "Bar and Grill". They have a big wood fired oven that I suspect is very new. Other than that, it was pretty unremarkable looking. It's a sunken place, below ground level, partly attached to Tiki Bob's next door. There were doormen handing out dollar beer tickets good for after the happy hour of fifty cent beers (yes, indeed) which we were mere moments before, but then, we don't drink beer at these places, so it wasn't happening. Which is really too bad, because there's a big price difference. Our 4 dollar drinks, served in plastic cups, weren't big, weren't strong, and related only to the beer, were really fucking expensive.

But it was working for the bar. There was a total meat market feel to it, and there were actually women, not the usual twenty five guys and four nervous girls, but a bunch of girls scattered about, some in groups and some with their guys.

So it was pretty good for a 21-25 year old pickup crowd, I guess. Especially with the beer. But for just drinking, or just hanging with your friends, it's not the place. Skip it.

Type: Lounge
Class: Average

We have been in a lot of sad and depressing restaurant lounges, but this one is surely up at the top. In the whole of the restaurant there was one group of four, and we sat alone in the bar. I am slightly hung over from my party. It says that in my notes, but I can’t imagine I was hung over at like 8 PM the next day. I probably just didn’t feel like moving all day so I ended up slugging and uncaring. In fact, I felt a lot like the bar. I do seem to recall struggling with the two drinks I had that evening.

So here is the great no no that the Flavor or India committed. Behind the bar they had 3 boxes. Three boxes you say. How bad could that be? Well, it was 3 boxes of wine. Yes folks, that’s right. They had Franzia as their house wine and they had it where it could be seen. That is so ghhheeetttoooo. Of course, the bartender knew nothing about booze so it is no wonder that he did not realize how bad it was. I wonder if he was a good … (Hindu, Muslim, Christian, umm, how about, member of his religious sect) and did not drink. Thus, since he was such a good (insert religious term here) he knew nothing about booze and was learning slowly.

Well whatever. I despised the place and hope never to return. I give them 1 Martini Glass out of 5. The drink was $4, low rent, and there was a giant India equivalent of a Velvet Elvis on the wall. And no, it was not an India Elvis in Velvet, but it was the same type of painting. It was just all terrible.

-wOOt

Type: Sports Bar
Class: Average

As we were walking in, a guy was walking out with a neon beer sign tucked under his jacket. A bartender ran up to him, grabbed it away from him, said “Get the Fuck out of here.” And then turned and went back to the bar. I think that pretty much sums up what you need to know about the place.

The downstairs is a long thin row of seating with your back to the wall and facing a veritable wall of TVs, all playing sports. We were served crappy drinks in what I remember to be plastic cups, but maybe it just felt like a plastic cup kind of place. They advertise the 37 TVs that are all turned to sports in here. There is metric butt ton of beer and sports signage as well as the requisite Sports Jerseys behind glass.

Upstairs is for “family” dining and they even have high chairs for the kiddies. It still boggles my mind that people get into sports that much. Sports are so … well … a surrogate for war. I have always wondered if the popularity for Major League sports goes down when there is a war going on, and whether there is a steady rise during peace time. I enjoy the 4 hours I spend on the band wagon each year as I watch various “important” games. Maybe the super bowl (cause Jeff cooks up a mean spread) or a Red Sox game (especially Vs the Mariners.) But really I could give a rats ass. That is probably why I find the whole concept of Shelly & Shane’s (eat out and watch TV) to be fairly abhorrent. Sure I sit in front of my TV and eat a pot pie, but I am single and home alone. When there is someone there with me, I wouldn’t dare. There is no TV during dinner time goddammit. I recommend talking to the people who are around you. They are much more important than whether your jack off sports team wins or loses. The sports team doesn’t love you, and if you play your cards right, neither will that other person.

Well, that was horribly rambling and off topic, but needless to say, I hated Shelly and Shane’s. I give them 1 Martini Glass out of 5. If you are a sports nut and want a place to sit and stare at the TV while drinking beer and not doing anything else (as I saw so many couples doing) then I give it 4 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

It's Christmas day as I write this, and I'm 12 days behind on the bar reviews. Which is really kind of lame of me, but here I am, taking time out of my festive celebrations to write reviews. Aren't I hard working?

So anyway, it was the night that Wolf was leaving for Canada, and also the night we were to go out drinking with Melody. Combining these two was going to be kind of tricky, since Melody needed a little time to get ready, but Wolf had to be at the airport by about 10 at the latest.

We started with just Wolf then, since we thought we'd pick up a bar before grabbing Melody, then hit a couple, then drop Wolf off, then maybe one or two more with just Melody. It pretty much went that way, but not quite.

We started with the Santa Fe Cafe, a little bistro kind of place not far from Wolf's house. It was a nice little spot, with a wait for seating, but we just headed for the bar past all the patrons waiting to eat. More the fool them. You can get food in the bar, anyway, so why wait for a real table? Anyway, it's New Mexican quisine, not the new food of Mexico, but the food of the state. Pretty much like Mexican, but not quite. In any case, it's pretty high end in price for a tiny little restaurant, so we skipped the appetizers that we were thinking about and just got drinks.

Their drinks, and we all got specialty drinks, were pretty tasty, and the prices didn't quite reach the level of their food prices, so it was a good value. The service was a bit slow to get started, but after that was very good indeed.

There were paintings all about the place, all by the owner. This, however, was not some sort of vanity thing, since he was actually a pretty decent painter, and thus we were all pretty surprised the owner was the artist. Normally, an owner-artist wouldn't be good; it's one of the perks of being the owner, that you can display your stuff anyway.

We still hadn't heard from Melody, so we called her, and she said it would be a bit yet. So we decided to try to hit one more bar before we picked her up, and off we went.

Wolf picked up the sponsorship, and would have had two more later, except that Brandon would make one of the classic blunders at the third bar.

We needed another bar in the Wallingford area, to stay kind of close to Melody's place, and we picked Simpatico, which after a bit of doing, we found at the very back end of the Wallingford Shopping Center. It was located in the lowest floor, sunken and with a patio that must be nice in the summer, but now was just damp and chilly. But inside, it was warm and welcoming, and the air was scented with delightful Italian smells. It wasn't busy inside, and there was pretty much no one in the bar, but the food smells were still thick in the air.

We sat at a little high table in the bar, and ordered drinks and a Caprese plate, which turned out to be quite tasty, and we gobbled up the free bread, too. The drinks were fine, the food was great, and the place was attractive.

There were red charcoal sketches, reproducing various famous works, on the walls, and red charcoal really does make for a beauty of a sketch.

Service was quiet and reasonably quick, but after we had gotten our appetizer, they left us alone for a bit too long.

Wolf picked up the second sponsorship, we called Melody again, she was ready, so we went to get her.

With Melody, Wolf and a trunk full of luggage, we pulled off the freeway into the ID, looking for a bar to hit on the way to the airport. Maneki suggested itself as a place we'd tried before, but too late in the night. We parked about a block away, and the four of us headed for the bar, which turned out to be a tiny little place attached to a rather more spacious sushi place.

We ordered drinks and sat, while Wolf went to the restroom and returned, surprisingly enough, with Gwen, our sponsor and his ex-wife, in tow. She was just randomly having sushi at Maneki before hitting an office party, and we chatted a bit.

Then there was just hanging out, and drinking, and smoking on one side of the table. But the bar was weird. There was one table (that we were at) and then the bar, with a narrow space to fit the bar stools in, because it was a long narrow kind of bar. There were demon masks above the bars, and various strips of paper inscribed with what must have been protective charms about, and fire buckets hung on one wall. There were old Chinese folk at the bar. And on the bar TV, A Charlie Brown Christmas was playing. Surreal, almost.

We drank, and the check appeared, with Brandon's card attached. Brandon had handed over his card when he ordered the drinks, for some reason deciding to pay when Wolf was present, although Wolf has stated his intention of picking up any unclaimed bar when he's out with us. So this was Brandon's blunder of the night, and in some ways it's made worse by the fact that Brandon was in fact doing Wolf a favor by driving him to the airport, and could thus even under other circumstances expect a drink out of it. Or so it was rather accurately pointed out to me by Bridgit.

Anyway, nobody got the sponsorship. Sadness. We had to head out for the airport, but Melody was definitely up for more bars, so we were planning on coming back for more drinks in the city.

Possibly the newest bar we've ever been to, it was Barbacoa's fourth day in business. Their liquor license having been registed a while before, due to Washington's laws, they were on our latest list, so we called, found out they were open, and headed up to the top of Queen Anne Hill for a drink.

It's a small place, just a half dozen tables in the restaurant and the bar, but it was very nice. Perhaps this was just the fact that it was only four days old, since everything was completely fresh. Nothing was chipped, mauled or hidden by dim lighting, as is so often the case with bars. On the tables were candles and little stones that were actually salt and pepper shakers, as I discovered to my sorrow when I picked one up and spilled pepper all over my hand.

We got specialty drinks here, too, and they were pretty tasty. The prices weren't too high. The food was quite good, if you like a sort of southwestern spicy haute barbegue, which is what the food is. It was way too hot for Brandon, which meant I thought it had good flavor. Their quesadilla had nice spciy peppers, and Brandon almost killed himself with it. This is a good thing.

The bartender was a really cute guy, and I thought I knew him from somewhere, which may seem like it's just a line, but in this case was true. I spent the better part of our evening in Barbacoa trying to figure out where I knew him from, before leaving the table we were sitting at to ask him. His name was Andrew, he was even better looking up close, and I don't think I actually did know him at all, although he previously worked at a bunch of bars we've been to, and he used to hang out all the time in Avenue One (a moment of silence for that late, great bar.) Anyway, we talked a bit, I lamely attempted to flirt a bit, and then Melody and Brandon were taking off, so I had to leave.

We also talked with one of the owners, during which talk I had broken off to head to the bar.

Melody picked up the bar, and was, I should say, in much better spirits than she had been when last we went out. I was very happy about that, because she was really down on the Pike Place run night, and now she was pretty much back to being Melody again. Which is wonderful.

We headed out for one more bar.

We tried to head to the bottom of Queen Anne Hill and pick up Figaro Bistro, but that wasn't to be. There was a private party there, with a bunch of people dancing as bad as Elaine from Seinfeld, and so we ended up heading further north, to Mona's.

This little hole in the wall in Wallingford is a dark bar with a not so dark restaurant portion. The restaurant was pretty quiet, the bar was not. It was filled with a total cross-section of types, hipsters and indie rockers and guys in tuxes with their dates in evening gowns. We didn't think their was a waitress until she walked up looking like a patron in hipster clothes, after we had ordered our drinks. Her hair was dyed, her attitude was very mellow, and we didn't need her for the rest of the night.

It was such a strange mixture that I don't really know what to think about Mona's. I can say that anyone should fit in, and that we had a pretty decent time in the dark, good sized bar, just sipping our drinks and talking about the night, the crowd, how Melody was doing, that sort of thing. But with the right group, any bar will be great, so I don't know if that was it or not.

Still, the prices were fine, the drinks were fine, the crowd was interesting, and it was a pretty decent place.

Melody picked up the sponsorship, for her second of the night, and then I got dropped off while she and Brandon went out to hit another bar and hang out some more. All in all, a very good night indeed.

We were going out with our #1 fan, Star, and we were gathering a small crew to make it a good night. Brandon and me, Sean, Jim and Trevor, and of course Star, would be hitting three or so bars. As it turned out, we'd go to six, but only three were bars we had to and were able to drink at, so that's all we need to count.

We started at a Thai place that doesn't have their booze yet, but when that failed, we all piled into Brandon's car (five of us, Jim had his motorcycle) and moved on to Figaro Bistro. We had meant to head there the night before with Melody, but that hadn't worked. So now we stopped in with the six of us, a couple hours before they were closing. It's a French restaurant, apparently, but we weren't having any food. We just sat at a table at the bar and ordered our drinks, waiting a moment for Jim who had gone to the Sitting Room, another place across the street we had mentioned.

We talked about bars for later, we talked about Star's forthcoming tonsilectomy, we talked about parties and such, and we drank our drinks. It was a good beginning, because we got some really good stories, especially the one about the guy who provided a 40 when asked to bring wine to dinner.

We decided to head to the Sitting Room next, and headed out.

Star picked up the sponsorship, which was very good of her, and just shows she takes her number one fan status seriously. So do we. Thanks, Star.

The Sitting Room turned out to be a really nice looking wine and beer place, which was too bad, because we all liked the look of it. It was not to be, though, so we made our way to just below I-5 and the Cafe Venus and Mars Bar. There was a band in the Bar, so we sat in the Cafe. We'd called earlier and been told you could get drinks on either side of this ecclectic affair, and that there was a little bar in the back of the Venus, too, but we didn't see it until someone went to the restroom, and then suddenly we spotted their very tiny bar, and all six of us moved to take over one of the two booths in the bar.

The bar in back was very tiny indeed. It was about the size of a college student's living room, and the furniture was about as good, too. The booth had two spots where the seating was giving away, and it was worn and broken down in general. But it was kind of cool, very dark and enclosed, and the crowd was kind of trashy but in a good way. There was music, starting with Santa Baby, which is Star's, and my, favorite Christmas song, and then continuing through a strange mix.

We sat and drank in that tiny booth, and there were pretty good drinks at the place, which was a good thing. Moving to the back from out front hadn't bothered them at all at the Venus, which was also good. Brandon dropped his pen under the table, and a number of interesting photos could have been taken of the people trying to reach under the table to get it, since it was very cramped, and there was no good way to get under the table.

After quite a long visit at the very nice Cafe Venus back bar, we were finally ready to move on, Jim having gotten some much-needed food. Sean had long planned to pick up bar 420, which was now, and so he sponsored it, which started to confuse things based on who had paid for who at which bar, but it was pretty much okay, and would all work out at the next bar.

I was looking for the Green Room, which I didn't know if it was in Graceland or the Showbox. Sadly, half our group did know, but none of them knew what I was wondering, so we ended up walking in the rain six blocks both ways to Graceland, and then discovering there was no Green Room. We also discovered there's never a time for us to hit Graceland unless we like one of the bands, so that was, I suppose, okay.

Anyway, after walking back we drove over to the Showbox and entered the Green Room. More two rooms, there's the upper bar area and then a big lower seating area. The big area was completely empty, so we decided to retreat there. Trevor had been talking about picking up a bar, which since he's been coming out with us on occasion since bar 159 seems like about time, and he decided to pick up this one. Meanwhile, Jim had to repay some drinks, so he got Star's drinks. Star decided on two drinks of habit, neither of which she likes much anymore, but she was just kind of on autopilot.

The six of us sat and talked in the very back corner of the lower bar, which is pretty plain, but when it's all yours, it's kind of nice. The seats are very, very soft on the booths. We were covering a lot of space for just the six of us, like pretty much twice what we needed, but that was okay, because no one ever joined us down there except on the way to the bathroom.

For some time we lingered and chatted, and then it was getting kind of late, and we all had to depart.

Trevor got his first and quite possibly only sponsorship, and I give him hearty thanks, since I know he's poor as hell. And thus ended our 50/50 night, of bars we did drink at and bars we didn't, and the latest visit of our #1 fan, Star.

It was the night of the Two Towers, and there was a really stupid line situation, which was getting so frustrating we had to go and drink. Okay, we were going to go and drink anyway, but it's a good excuse.

Eventually, we assembled a group, which was Brandon and me, Red, Jim, Alan, and Bridgit. It was good to have Bridgit out with us again, and Alan out with us for perhaps the last time (Seattle's loss is Tuscon's gain, but we're still losers.) And Red had declared his willingness to sponsor as many bars as we were going to, so it was all good.

Another group wanted to come with us, but also wanted food, so we sent them ahead to the Hurricane, which was probably our last stop of three.

It had been hard to keep three bars in the Cinerama area unvisited, but we managed, and the Sixth St. Bar and Grill was one of them. It's attached to a hotel, and it's pretty good sized. There's a full on restaurant, about which there's nothing much to say, and the bar, which seemed kind of hunting lodge like. There was a fireplace, and a few woodsy accesories. We sat at a booth with an extra chair pulled up and ordered drinks from our very nice bartender, and while there was nothing very remarkable about the place, it was still pretty decent. Of course, a lot of that may have had to do with the fact that we weren't waiting in the non-line back at the theater.

Brandon spent a lot of time figuring out tickets and numbers and such, while the rest of us chatted and drank, and eventually we were ready to go and Brandon had to drink up.

Red, as promised, picked up the bar, for his first of three on the night.

Just around the corner from the Sixth St, the Greenhouse is also attached to a hotel, the Days Inn. This place was dead, with three people sitting on stools at the bar and talking to the bartender. We six tripled the crowd size.

There is not much to report. There was another fire place, and my umbrella started to get uppity with Bridgit, attempting to trip her. This was not my malice, so don't blame me. The umbrella just had it out for her.

Chit chat was made, the weirdly located bathrooms commented on, and then Red paid the bill for his second sponsorship, and we were off.