I really liked this place. The drinks, well, I can't even say. I don't even rightly recall what I had. I'd presume a Screwdriver. But that doesn't matter. On the first night, when we hit seven bars, this one still seems special. And for several reasons.

First, the staff were nice. When we told a waitress our idea, she didn't think we were crazy, she thought it sounded fun. I like this.

Second, the place is pretty friendly in general. There's a good amount of room, but it's split up into smaller areas by partial walls and suchlike. It's both open and cozy. And it was neither too bright, nor pitch black, the usual bar extremes which can often annoy.

Third, they had Yahtzee. Okay, maybe we just got a good table, but still, they had Yahtzee. And okay, I got my ass handed to me, and Sean sadly had his perfectly good win stolen from him by Brandon's last minute second Yahtzee, but that's rather unimportant in the scale of things. They had Yahtzee, you see.

Did I mention this was #6 of the night?

Still, it was a great place.

Located in the Moon Temple, what can you say about the bar in a Chinese restaurant where you can get the full menu?

You can say, Hell Yeah!

The staff is attentive, the food is pretty good, the portions are generous and the drinks, while not great, didn't suck either. And they were pretty strong. Everyone was nice, and the waitress we had was cute, if you like the ladies.

Good starting point for your night, in other words. With food and pretty strong drinks, and everything at reasonable prices, you can't go wrong.

Okay, by our actual rules, I don't think this place qualifies. But the rules were really shaky that first night. So although the bar isn't really open after the restaurant closes, and although it doesn't really have a seperate identity like the Mandarin Room, I'm still counting it.

It's a nice place. Very nice. Looks good, although it's very small, and the drinks were tasty, if a bit more than I like to pay. But you get what you pay for, and at the Jitterbug, it shows. They close kind of early, but even as they were closing, they asked with seeming sincerity if we wanted another drink. Not in the "Anything else?" way that implies, could you go please, but rather as if they really wanted to be sure we had consumed our fill.

Good place.

It's kind of late, so I'll make this short.

Murphy's is the bar to go to with all your college friends. Get a pitcher. Take over a table in the noisy but spacious interior. Sit by the fire if you want. But don't, I repeat don't, order a cocktail, even though they'll have a sign suggesting just that. You'll wonder two things: Am I suddenly in Lilliput, because this is a small glass, and, Is there a shortage of alcohol, cause they didn't give me my fair share.

But other than that, it didn't suck. Like I said, a good place for a crowd.

A good, reliable sports bar. The drinks are acceptable, the place has pool, darts and video games, and everything is pretty much all right with the world while you're there.

Thursdays they have trivia night; get a question right, and your order is half price. Nice for those who have fountains of trivial knowledge to hand.

j.

I mentioned a little about Changes in my journal.

So here's a little more. It's a small place, and kind of worn, but it's not bad. The prices are low (a Finlandia Cranberry and cran was $3.50), the pour is pretty strong, and they have drink specials, too.

There's TVs, but they play the Golden Girls.

The crowd is kind of older and rather male.

Overall, it was a decent sort of place for a drink.

j.

I didn't like this place. The bartender was middle-aged and had obviously seen it all, and didn't care to see us and our crazy little idea. The karaoke was terrible. The place wasn't very big. But then, I was a little drunk at the time, which both makes my perceptions a little skewed, and my memory a little patchy.

Still, it's been my least favorite stop, with the possible exception of Von's. I would recommend skipping it.

Our first stop on the second night, and the place was empty. It's a sports bar, with big TVs, and one lonely pool table and dart board in the back. But there were no sporty types present, in fact, the place was nearly deserted. Which is too bad, because they were friendly, they didn't have a short pour for the drinks like you might expect so close to a college, and it seemed like a nice sort of place to just hang out.

Perhaps this was influenced by running into people I knew, but that's okay. I've got to base my writing on what was happening.

It's a pretty good high-end dive.

Flowers. I've been here often. I really rather like the place. It's an after-work hang out. So there's not much I can say about my visit for the quest, cause it was really short.

Instead, I'll just talk about Flowers.

Get a table. Order some drinks. Have the Prince Mazza plate. They'll bring you more pita if you run out. And enjoy yourself. Cause you will. The wait staff is friendly, and if you get there early enough to actually claim a table, a good time will be had by all. Perhaps that's why the place is always so full.

Highly recommended.

It's both classy and not. I like the front of the bar, which has a few (slightly wobbly) tables, a nice looking bar, stools, the whole thing. But in the back, in the performance space, it all looks a little iffy.

Still, it was good. The place is pretty pleasant, the staff seems very casual, and the drinks are all right. I commend them for supporting bands. I'm not sure what, if anything, could get made better. But it seems like something might be improvable.

All in all, a pretty decent place. I'd go back.

I talked a bit about this place in my journal. Very little more to add. Just that I very much like the weirdly ecclectic feel of the place, and I think you should all go there, often, to watch bands.

Just avoid the fog machines.

This is a good place. A nice looking hotel bar, in the Warwick Hotel across from the Cinerama Theater. Very classy, and the staff is very pleasant. The drinks are good, and while they're a little spendy, it's worth it for both the look of the place, and the relative isolation. You're in a quiet sort of hotel bar, which is nice, and it would be a good place for an intimate little date. They have a bar menu, which while not full, is certainly adequet.

So bring your date to the Brasserie, and have a good time.

Very nice. Too nice for me, really. This place screams quality, from the tasteful surroundings to the so-fresh-there's-chunks-of-orange juice. The drinks weren't weak, the staff wasn't surly even though we rather obviously didn't belong there, and it wasn't a bad experience in any way.

While I wouldn't go back there normally, it'd be a good place for something special.

They're a restaurant, too. Mainly, even. With, as I understand it, rather good food. But that's outside of my area of concern.

I've been to the Rickshaw many times before. It is perhaps the best place I know to go with a hangover for a morning after. And while I wasn't quite hungover when we went there, it was a near thing. They have ample food, and great crappy diner coffee, and I just like the joint.

They also have a full bar. Which is open for an hour after the restaurant is closed, although our waitress pretty much assured us you could still get food in that hour, cause the cooks were still there, as they were also the clean up crew.

Really, though, this was just a gimme. We were there, the booze was there, and the prices were super cheap.

They also have drink specials, and happy hour for like 9 hours in the morning/afternon. Check it out.

A decent place. Nice looking inside. Drinks were okay. There's nothing much to really report about it.

A big brew pub, but with a full bar also. I understand they make their own beer, but I've heard it's a problem for a number of people. For me, the drink was fine, but the place was a bit too big and empty for me to really have liked it.

I mentioned quite a bit about this place in my journal. And I don't know that I have much to add. They give good value for your dollar, since their singles are almost doubles. That's important to note. Other than that, I think I've said all I need to elsewhere.

How much did I like this place? Enough to say it's in the top three of the places we've been, hanging at present with the Tin Hat and the Cloud Room. It's a great bar, with friendly people, including our great bartender Florence. And the drinks are fine, they gave us stuff for the next night's giveaway a night early, there's pool. What more does one need. Visit the Wild Rose, ready for two things: a good time, and (important) the fact that it's a lesbian bar. Which won't stop the first thing, but you should at least be ready for it.

Highly recommended.

Fancy restaurant/bar. Very nice looking, too. The food looks great, the drinks are quality, and they have a list of house special drinks. However, the bar is not very large, and standing room is highly limited. We ended up standing at the edge of the waitress station, which was pretty much in the way of everything, so we got shooed off a bit snippily, which is understandable, but still not something to encourage. Rather than be a bother any longer, we gulped and ran.

For a good night out, could be good, but as just a bar, it's too small and too crowded.

Ah. The Cloud Room. I love this place. It's got the most incredible deck outside, 11 floors up. Okay, the view isn't much, because the sides are very high. For the real view, reserve the banquet room, or get a table in there on a busy night when it's broken up into smaller tables. But there's just the open sky all above you, and a few buildings visible, and the hum of the city all around, but muffled. There's splashing fountains in season, and the whole deck is just incredible, really.

The drinks aren't bad either, although since it's a hotel bar, they aren't all that cheap. But really, the attraction here is the location, not the drinks, and the location is very, very hard to beat.

Highly, highly enjoyable in season. From the start of spring to the middle of autumn, on a clear day this is one of the best bars in town. And I'll say that without having been to most of the bars in the city, and I'm willing to bet I'll stick with my opinion throughout the quest.

This is a classy place. Lots of hardwood, lots of attractive staff, a good look, good lighting. It's the sort of place people with disposable income should spend time, and from the level of busy-ness, it seems like they do.

The drinks aren't cheap. In this setting, you shouldn't expect them to be. What you should expect, and won't be disappointed with, is the quality. The gin and tonic at the 727 was the best I've tasted, and my screwdriver was pretty damn tasty, too. Not that you can do much with well drinks, which leads me to wonder what their specialty drinks might be like. If I had the money, I'd definitely go back, but as I don't, I can only recommend it to those with the cash that they do return, early and often.

The bar is nice looking, but we didn't sit there. We sat in the restaurant and had drinks with food. So I can't say much about the bar, except that the back side is really rather private looking, wedged between the bar and the kitchen wall in a dim, mood-setting space that seemed rather overlooked to me.

The drink I had was fine. Nothing special.

I want a bar to say something really bad about, and it's Von's. They proclaim in various pieces of signage to have the best martini in Seattle. Perhaps this is true, but I won't ever find out. Von's sucks ass.

By this I mean, it's a sport's bar, except it has no pool tables, no darts and no TVs. But otherwise the decor is similar, and the feel is much the same. The bartender who helped me was the cheesy sort who comped the girls in front of me, already in possession of their (personally selected) drinks, free shooters of something. And presented them with a grin that said he wanted a non-cash tip. I quote the great Wanda Sykes: "Remember me? I'm the Drink Man. I bought you that drink, now you owe me."

And, for more than five dollars, they serve you up a luscious little well drink made with MONARCH vodka or MCCORMICK'S gin. Not that I have a problem with cheap alcohol. I serve it often at my parties. But, and note this, I don't have the audacity to charge five bucks a pop for the crap. It didn't even have the dignity to be a strong drink.

So what can one say about Von's? I'd like to say it's better than sitting at home staring at a white wall, but I can't. It's not.

I love places like this. Places where different types meet and ignore each other. In this case, the Old Pequliar is a bar that was once, one suspects, home to a regular crowd of working class guys who drank there often, and often in lieu of time with the family. I know the type, since all my various fathers fit into the group, and my mother, working at a bar most of my life, is part of it by default. I like the type, really. They're friendly people, once you belly up to the bar.

Then there's the new young crowd who have moved into Ballard these last five or ten years. Poor, vaguely hip, neither rich nor cool enough for the best spots. But close enough.

The groups don't mix. But neither of them is ready to give up the ghost, and so they both show up. There're not so many of the middle aged guys now, but they're still there in small numbers.

And I love bars like that.

We only stopped in really briefly, and had our drink, and left. Too college for me, unless I'm with my college friends, and I wasn't.

A plus--the waitress flipped Brandon shit about how she didn't expect him to be able to pay. Shows what wearing you Milwaukee Jail shirt will get you. Kind of funny, though.

I think I've said all that needs be said about the experience. But about the bar--it's actually seperate, there's booths, you can order the full Denny's menu, I think there's even a dart board. Sadly, although Denny's is open all night, state liquor laws require the bar to still close at 2 am, and then it sits empty for (I presume) the minimum four hours before once again opening at 6 am.

I begin to wonder how many Irish bars there are in this city.

But this one is a nice one. Lots of wood, lots of seperate spaces, good lighting. Almost every inch of every wall, and the windows, are taken up with memoribilia, almost all of it Irish in nature, with a few things booze or sports related, but even then, Irish-oriented.

We were there for a birthday drink with my friend Bridgette, who was turning 26. And this was bar 26, so that was a nice coincidence.

I like the place. The drinks were nothing special, but they weren't bad, either. And the dining space, which is dark and empty at night, chairs piled on tables, the shining light of the bar marking out paths on the hardwood floors, was somehow romantic. In that doomed, abandoned way which comes lies close to my heart. But really, it made it seem like there was this bar, and just around the corner, there were these dim rooms where you might perhaps, as unlikely as it would seem, see a couple slow dancing to music only they could hear.

I like that sort of thing, and if only for that little moment of possibility, I liked Fado. But fortunately, there was more to like, as I've said above.

They have live music several nights a week, and on Sundays, they have a couple hours set aside for amatuers, apparently.

A very large man of Pacific Islands origin frisked us going in, and said he was going to keep my mini-Leatherman tool, as its scissors and very short night were apparently too menacing. And I guess it's that sort of place on the weekends. But on this Tuesday, just after Fado, there was nothing to the place. A half-dozen patrons sat at the bar, counting us, while in the dance space at the far side of the club, a DJ spun the tunes for a non-existant dance squad.

Our bartender helpfully explained, in answer to our queries, that there was indeed a weekend cover of five or ten dollars, depending on who they had DJing, although a really big DJ might be more. And that, in reference to an earlier call about who was spinning that night, he had answered, "DJ Who Gives A Fuck?"

I liked our bartender.

The club is pretty. Copper bar, weird nude statuary of partial bodies, a strange but lovely purple faux stained glass window. A very attractive space. On the weekends, it's apparently wall to wall with people.

The drinks were made with crappy alcohol, but a lot of it. Mixers were apparently solely present so that drinks could be called "mixed" because there was very little decrease in alcohol strength.

However, there wasn't much to do, and you couldn't even people watch, since there were just the six of us. So while we lingered over our drinks a moment, after they were gone, we left immediately.

Another Irish bar. But this one is like three bars in one. First, there's the front room, which during the day is the main restaurant portion of the establishment. There's a number of tables, with the best seating (still not great) and a wall of books, all big old monsters. I didn't notice those until leaving, so I thought at first rather poorly of this front room, with its moderate lighting, quiet seating and one table of ladies having cocktails.

The next room featured a very large man checking IDs. He had a name tag on, saying, "Hello, My Name Is
HAN SOLO
PANTS"
because, you see, he was wearing pants like Han Solo, sort of. This room featured the performance space, and indeed, before we left a band which passably approximated a rock band was playing. The bar was also in this room, so we ordered. It was dim in the back room, and I didn't feel like dim, so we moved on to the last room.

It's the dive portion of the place. There's a pool table, and tables with vinyl chairs that are torn, stuffing showing through. There's two electronic dart boards, and one wooden one. There's another bar, but it's closed, and small in any case. And you can see, quite clearly, into the kitchen.

I should note that the pool table was in use, by several very adorable guys. Perhaps this has influenced me positively toward Owl and Thistle, but I got a good feeling about the place.

The drinks were not bad, the whole bar was pretty decent in a low class sort of way, and there were plenty of options for what to do, and in what setting to do it. I liked the place, and I'd go back.

It's a shame to call this place a bar. It's a restaurant, you see, but the bar stays open two hours past dinner, so while we were there, it was a bar. But we just missed dinner time, and so the scent of the kitchen was still thick in the air. And what a scent. The place serves mostly sea food, but this smell wasn't at all fishy. Succulent, savory, a hint spicy, it was perfection on the air.

Our bartender Chris was a great guy. He served us up very tasty wells, got us a full dinner menu even though it was just midnight at we were technically too late (we didn't order, but it all looked good on paper), and when we told him about the quest, he didn't look at us crazy. In fact, he suggested places we should go in West Seattle when we went there. Friendly, helpful, obliging. All the things a good bartender would be in a perfect world, and Flying Fish was seeming pretty perfect.

Just a couple of complaints, and they're small. Speaking of which, the bar. It's tiny. Just an add on to the restaurant, I suspect, so there's just a couple tables and the bar with maybe ten stools. It's not sizable, but it was cozy, and that was good. Second, the food smelled too good. I know, that's a stupid complaint, but when you need to save money as much as we do, it's best to not spend it on probably incredible food that is sadly priced what it's worth.

Other than that, I liked it a lot. It fits well with 727 and the Dahlia Lounge in the classy place list, which is sadly rather short, and not likely to get all that much bigger. But we'll see.

A one bar night. Goofy's is pretty much what the name says. Goofy. I like it though. There's lots of space, which all seems kind of thrown together. There's a couple pool tables, darts, a few video games, fake fires with real heat, pull tabs, karaoke. It's pretty much got everything, in one reasonably sized package.

But for all that, it's kind of goofy, as I said. Thrown together does describe the space, but that's about the only way it could be put together, since they do perhaps a bit much for the space they have. And while there's a few young types, the bar's also home to a definite older crowd, which is a mix I enjoy (see the Old Pequliar, #24) but which only adds to the wacky feel of the place. Then there's the chairs, which are very, very short.

The drinks? Well, they were weak. But for a neighborhood bar, with probably very much regulars, it's no shock that walk ins get weak drinks. That's what I'd expect, and that's what we got.

Still, it was worth the trip if only for the two girls and a guy who couldn't sing Destiny's Child to save their lives.

This is a blue collar joint, no bones about it. It's plain, it's few occupants are older guys who have obviously spent a lot of time working, and the walls are covered with memoriblia of the history of Seattle, labor being a primary focus. The decor is all left over from the Sixties and Seventies, and I think most of the patrons are, as well. The bartender is a guy in his forties wearing bib overalls like he was a train engineer. He brings out coffee to an old guy who wanders in without being asked to bring it. It's that kind of place.

The waitress was very attentive, very friendly. There was very cheap pool at the single table. The drinks didn't suck, and tonight marks the change of drinks, from a screwdriver to a vodka cranberry (Cape Cod).

So what can I say about the Dock? I'd never have gone there, and I'm not likely to ever go back. But for their crowd, I guess it's okay. It's just not, in any way, a place for me.

From outside, this tiny place looks kind of menacing. So menacing our unofficial photographer Kathryn, despite living two blocks away, has never been here. It looks like the kind of dive where you don't get out safe without a lot of tattoos and muscles, or the right kind of bike, or something.

It's not like that at all.

I loved this place. The music was punk-ish, the crowd was mixed, the drinks were decent, and while it's really small inside, they still manage to cram in a pool table. The bartenders were nice and seemed to be just ordinary people, something I like in a bartender.

We met a couple of ladies here, Jennifer and Rachel, and they were very cool to hang with, even if it was only for a few minutes.

And we talked with the bartender, Valerie, who recommened we skip the Red Door as a night time bar, and gave enough reasons to actually compel us to do so. She said she wanted to see us there again, and while she likely won't, cause we've got a lot of bars to hit, I think everyone in the world should descend on this tiny gem and buy many drinks.

Sorry I didn't learn the other YMCA Soccer guy bartender's name. Seems kind of a poor show when we learned so much else.

Anyway, go there. It's great. It's in the obscurest part of Fremont, but still, I loved it. And you will, too.

$5 dollar wells. This is what counts in my world as a warning. And when the well is made with mostly mixer, I like it even less.

That was the Triangle. Weak drinks for a high price. What more could be said?

Well, plenty. They had a DJ working his craft, and he was decent, although sadly I have no idea who he was. The crowd was very guy-heavy, which should work for me, but unfortunately they were not at all attractive. I could have been much more pleased with a bunch of cute girls. In fact, I was, at the Wild Rose. Go there, and skip the Triangle.

But perhaps I'm too hard on them. Weak drinks and blah crowd aside, I'm told they're so packed on the weekends you can't get a table, and the bar is hard to reach. Oh, wait, those aren't really selling points, either.

So would I recommend it? No. But if you're in the area, and all the other bars in the neighborhood seem to far, maybe you should stop in. The seating, if you can get it on whatever night you come in, is okay. So that's something.

Oh, and I did hear the oddest conversation ever in the men's room.

They have a nice courtyard seating area that was both covered with retractable screens, and heated. This was nice, cause the inside of this hipster joint was totally packed, and we had to sit outside. Without the heaters, it would have been unbearable. With the heat, it was great. Sadly, I ended up paying very little attention to the locale, as I was with my friends Chris and Holly, and we had great conversation.

The drink I had was okay, and the Fat Tire beer that followed was certainly good. The place has a sort of divey charm, and it's an establishment, so what can one say? I've been there before, I'll drift back again.

I understand it's normally a restaurant, but it stays open past food time, so we had to go there. And we just missed food, cause the next table was eating pizza, but we couldn't get any. In any case, it pretty much looks like a restaurant that serves booze, rather than having anything like a bar feel. Good conversation continuing from Linda's, there was once again little that I noted. But, since it's a restaurant first, I don't think there was much to notice.

Bill's was mainly notable for being the first bar we've actually closed out since we started this quest. Otherwise, we're pretty much too fast and get out too quick. The cry of "Last Call for Alcohol," is one I really like, so Bill's is a bit special to me, as the first of the quest. Other than that, it was nothing special, good or bad.

The first of a run of four for the night, Poly Ester's (and the Culture Club) was the first active dance place we've been to, as Contour had no dancing going on.

I'll start by saying I like to dance. And I like the 80's. And Culture Club is an 80's dance club. So I like the place. There's no cover before nine, and there are $3 wells until 11, which isn't the greatest, but it's a bargain of sorts. Sadly, Poly Ester's would mark the last bar of the mystery fun money we had, and so the end of our run of bars that seemed, for all intents and purposes, free, a run that started with #18, the Wildrose.

We drank and watched the middle aged dancers. I mean that, too. If you've never been, both sides of the club start out with a lot of people in their late 30s, 40s, even 50s. A few of them stay all night, but the crowd does get younger as time goes on. And at first, there's usually just a few older dancers, and a couple of younger women who, as always, are the first to brave the dancefloor. But as the crowd increases, and as the numbing effects of alcohol convince everyone they can indeed dance, the dance floor fills up, and most of the older dancers depart.

However, some people still shouldn't dance. I refer to the larger couple who danced next to me, taking up excess space by sheer virtue of being big people, and then taking up even more by lame attempts at ball room dancing. I wouldn't complain so much except that I ended up getting decked on the nose by the whirling fat woman, and later headbutted by her when her fat husband dipped her.

Eventually, they left. For which I'm very happy.

But also eventually, the dance floor fills up, and there's very little room. We also had more bars to go to. So Brandon and I, and my brother Wolf who had joined us mere moments after arrival, departed.

I should note the drinks are of average strength, like at most heavily-trafficed clubs, and of ordinary size. Everything comes in plastic, which seems a little cheap, but then you realize how very many people there are in the place, and what a pain glass would be, and you get over it.

I like Poly Ester's/Culture Club. You should go there.

We came to Hoyt's for a repeat visit of Jennifer, one of the women we met at the Pacific Inn. She worked at Hoyt's on Saturdays as a bartender. However, the place was very packed, and we were supposed to be met up with by at least 2 and as many as 5 other people. Which was potential trouble. Still, we just snagged a both, and decided to worry about it if the moment came.

Jennifer is a dear woman, but she's not meant to be serving as a waitress, which was the role she had been pushed into. The drinks were good, but she ended up bringing us two drinks wrong. Sadly, the bar menu was also lacking in many of the items listed, as they were out for the night. A good sign, being out, cause it tends to mean the items are pretty much fresh, but sad for us, because we couldn't get the things we wanted. Still, the onion rings were good. The drinks were also fine.

Partway through, we were joined by Dave and Ryan, who claimed that Sean P. was coming as well. This is not the Sean previously mentioned, the web guy, but rather, another Sean entirely. However, Sean had still not arrived when we finished our drinks and rings, and so we moved on.

Jennifer, if you read this, I hope it's not as crazy next week. We'll probably be back at some point, after the quest is done.

Hoyt's is a very nice looking place, but then, it's on Queen Anne Hill, and the bars there tend to be nicer. The food looked good, too, what I saw at the other tables, and the drinks were reasonably priced.

Just across the street from Hoyt's, the 5-Spot is a bit of a dive. Nothing wrong with that. But it wasn't very busy, seemed in fact rather dead, although the restaurant was closed, and the bar was soon to close. Still, the five of us sat and had a quick drink, and were joined finally by Sean P. The drink was okay, nothing remarkable, and the place didn't make much of an impression. Of course, I can't say whether that's fair, as by this time there were six of us, and we were in a bit of a hurry to make one more bar. Still, a lot of people had told me to got the 5-Spot, and I didn't think it was really worthy of so much commentary.

Very packed.

Blues music.

A table for four, serving for six.

The bar was very crowded, but the staff were quick, and some were quite cute.

The crowd was lively.

Across the aisle, two women and a man, all within a few years of forty, playing quarters. A woman sinks two in a row, then the other woman two in a row. They're not playing for drinks.

The blues band switches to covers. "Mustang Sally" while never my favorite song convinces me I've entered the outer circle of hell. And then mercifully back to blues, after three covers.

People kissing at the bar. And man and woman making out over the divider that seperated our table from the bar area, going at it for fully thirty seconds.

It's that kind of place.

I kind of liked it.

The drinks were weak, weak, weak. Not as weak as Murphy's, and not as bad as Von's or Goofy's, but weak all the same. And not cheap. But a better location will tell, and I think I feel pretty good about Paragon.

Valerie at the Pacific Inn (see how much we mention people we like) said, "Fuck the Red Door. Fucking family-style bar. Fuck them." And so we didn't go here on Thursday, but come Sunday, lunch time, we wandered in, since Valerie had conceded that might work. Brandon and I were met by Wolf and my friend Jeff, who will be mentioned prominently in the Shilshole Connection, and in addition is an all around great guy.

Lunch worked okay. I liked my fish and chips, and there were good things said by everyone else about their sandwiches. Less successful was the completely unremarkably flavored Bloody Mary I ordered, wanting a morning drink (although it was 1 pm). It was big, I'll give it that, but it lacked sweetness, spice or any distinguishing characteristics. Also, it was rather expensive. Even more disappointing was Brandon's Mimosa, which was just plain terrible, and pricey to boot.

So go there for lunch, but skip the drinks. Should we go back again at night to test the waters then? I fall back on the wise Valerie. "Fucking family style bar." I don't think I'll go back for a drink, no.

This begins the Shilshole Connection, an excellent series of bars brought to us (and you) with the generousity of my friend Jeff Ketchel, an upright fellow who offered to sponsor us for three bars we thought would be a bit pricey.

Hiram's was first. There's a nice big restaurant, a small bar area, and a deck outside that was sadly full, as the glorious evening sun was all around, and a deck seat would have been just about perfect. For this night, we're joined by Jeff and by Chris who was with us at Linda's and Bill's a few nights ago. Combined with Brandon, it's a great group, and as Jeff's girlfriend Kristin (sp?) will be joining us soon, it should get better.

Hiram's is a nice looking place. The booths are comfortable, the bar has lots of artfully rusted iron accents, there's a three leveled Lazy Susan of alcohol. The bar menu is small but tasty, and while I can't even think of oyster shooters, apparently they're very good. The drinks were fine, nothing remarkable, but in the spacious, attractive interior, it seems not to matter. The sun was shining, the bar was beautiful, and Gretchen our waitress was understanding about the quest. All was right with the world.

When we told her we needed the check, she just smiled and said she thought so, since there were a lot of bars out there. For all the Gretchens in the world, and this one in particular, we're grateful.

In addition, the drinks were reasonably priced, which was a surprise, cause it's a nice place, and you'd think you'd pay more for a drink. They also have nightly specials during the week, and happy hours, so going can only be to your advantage. Get a table on the deck, slurp some oysters and pound back a couple.

I think others had more problems with Ray's than I did. I should point out they were very, very full. So full there were multiple groups standing in the bar, so that space there was at a premium. With the five of us, as Kristin had now joined us, there was very little room. So we looked longingly out at the deck, where many tables were open, and where the sun was drifting down behind tattered clouds toward the snowy Olympics.

Okay, the view was incredible. So we would have wanted to sit out on the deck anyway, but that was where they had space. So we tried to get a seat, but there was some confusion, and we ended up getting a ticket that implied a 45 minute wait. We got drinks anyway, and drifted outside, where a host person told us we could just take a seat, since we didn't need a waitress. This is where the problem for some people may come in, cause there was seating confusion. But as the matter cleared up almost at once, it was no big deal.

The view was incredible, as I've mention. There was nothing at all blocking us from gazing into the west while sipping our drinks.

And such drinks.

My vodka-cranberry was on a 727 level. The bar, not the plane. It was that good. Combine that with the view, and I loved the place. We got no bar food, cause of the shortness of waitstaff that would have given us a 45 minute wait, but we did have a great visit.

Incredible drinks, reasonably priced, and such a view. For the summer, Ray's is definitely a great place to be.

Third of a great trio. The bar is sunken, and preserves much of the great view of next door at Ray's. There are many specials and such at many times of the day. We were in none of these, but we persevered anyway.

The drinks were pretty good. Strong, but not as tasty as Ray's. There were clams and muscles ordered, and they were apparently quite satisfactory, although I didn't like the flavor of the clam I had. With the Mariners on TV, the fading sun behind the distant mountains, and a last comfortable bar to relax in, the remainder of the night passed well.

Anthony's was good. The drinks were about the same price as Hiram's and Ray's, so that the whole night was much more affordable than I had thought it would be, which makes me happy, cause I didn't want to be too much of a mooch to Jeff. And we all had a good time, with three excellent bars, no bad drinks and some rather decent food to boot.

Anthony's has a late night happy hour Wednesday with $2.50 drink specials and free bar appetizers. I think I'll check it out sometime soon, just as a place to go to. I highly recommend it to one and all, as I do all the bars of the Shilshole Connection.

Totally casual, yet also classy.

Louie's is a Chinese restaurant with attached bar. The food here is pretty good, as I know from eating here, but I've never before taken the left hand turn into the bar. Which is too bad, cause it's a nice place.

There's big tropical chairs, like you'd see at some resort or in a movie. There's a fake fire. There's a lot of mirrors, and oddly placed windows that provide a view of the street, not the most enlightening thing, but still, thye look kind of nice and must let in a lot of light at about sunset.

It's dim and kind of styling, in a south seas sort of way.

The drinks are pretty strong and pretty cheap. And Frank the bartender is pleasant and knows his tech toys. He brings his Playstation with attached screen in with him for the slow times. And he can recommend a digital camera.

Plus, you can get the full dinner menu until rather late, and appetizers are half price during the 4-6 happy hour.

A pretty fun place, really. Back bars in Chinese restaurants are starting to gain in my overall ratings.

Another small place, like the Pacific Inn, and like the Pacific Inn, it's pretty much a treasure.

While it's bigger than you might think if you include the restaurant portion, the bar is actually rather small. There's a pool table, the bar itself, and a couple of tables. There's a golf game, and more importantly, a 30-odd year old pinball game, which I will return and gain my revenge on for sliding ball after ball through the flippers.

But I digress.

The bartender didn't stop her pour until even the greediest of drunks would have been satisfied. My vodka cran was a blushing pink, and I could definitely tell that while Louie's had treated me right, the Lockspot was going to treat me wrong, but I would like it.

There's a pre-Raphaelite painting on the wall between the bathrooms, which are marked with stick-figure boy and girl emblems fully six feet tall. For those who might still be confused, there are also red plaques above the doors labelled appropriately.

The crowd was eclectic, from an old rummy at the bar to the cute couple of girls at the table beside us; and from the somewhat drunken guy who thought Brandon was a DJ for KJR to the young group playing pool slowly and not very well. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, as is proper at a bar.

Another little gem, but it's not on the beaten path, and I'm guessing as far out as it is (almost to the Ballard Locks on Seaview Ave.) it gets far less business than it deserves.

Correct that, everyone. Go here, right after you hit the Pacific Inn.

I don't know if I'll make it through the whole night. 5 bars, taking us to the big number, but I'll give it a shot.

Happy hour from 5-9 pm Monday through Friday. What more really needs to be said? Well, first off, the $2 menu--wells, beer on tap, mini-pizzas, cheeseburgers and wings. The drinks aren't $2 cheap either. At twice that, I might have thought they were a bit light, but for 2 bucks, who can complain? And the mini-pizza was tasty, and easily worth the money. The seven dollars they normally wanted for it (if the menu item was the same size) was a bit more questionable. Okay, it wouldn't have worked at all.

The decor was interesting. Red velvet, a lot of mirrors, a lot of wood. There's an Italian restaurant across the bar. Literally across the bar. You keep thinking there's a mirror, but really, it's just that there's another bar set up on the other side. A similarly full, and very extensive, bar. The staff was small but fully capable, and they had time to deal with the reasonably large bar crowd, the smallish restaurant crowd, the guy who I think must have some share in the place, and the annoying two guys at the bar (us.)

We got out lightly fed and lightly toasted for 15 bucks. You can't beat that. So while I don't think Vito's is quite up to the level of the Pacific Inn, it's surely a good place.

And they have a tiny dance floor, and get music in the place at night. Lots of shots of Hennessey on Thursday, cause it's hip hop night. Craziness, from a goombah bar.

I think I'm very fond of the place. But I'll have to go back to be sure. Fortunately, the happy hour is so long, you can go there and still hit your other bar of choice, either before or after.

Trudy rocks my world.

She's been tending bar for 31 years, and knows a bartender everywhere. She has the very best recommendations. And she has a very good idea of when to stop pouring, which is sometime around the top of the glass.

This Greek-American eatery, with a bar patronized by old sad looking people, was a wonder. Maybe it was just the Trudy had so many tips. Maybe it was just the owner, who kept circulating to make sure everyone was happy. Maybe it was Ms. Pac-Man.

I rather suspect it was a combination of the three.

Whatever, I really liked the place. It was a gem of a bar. I'm not sure how often I'd go back, but it was, for this quest, just about perfect.

Strangest thing: The bathroom had a cologne machine. Really. You pay a quarter, and a shot of cologne is spritzed out of a nozzle. You stand in front of it, and you get cologned up. I have no idea what this is about.

Trudy, I hope I spelled your name right. Comment and fix me if I didn't.

The drinks were okay. I'm already done with this place, about which nothing extraordinary could be said. The bartender was obviously putting in time for something better. And that's it.

We wandered in here, where once I attended a rehearsal brunch, to find that the bar per se was actually closed. The Hunt Club is the bar of the Sorento Hotel, "Seattle's oldest luxury Hotel," but it was being remodelled. So we had to adjourn to the Fireside room where there was indeed a fire, and temporary bar had been set up. Our waitress, Katie (maybe, her name doesn't stick well with me) apologized for the lack of variety. Since we just drink simple wells, there wasn't a problem. And she brought us a little tray of mixed nuts with our drinks, which was nice. Sadly, while the drinks were sizable and reasonably strong, they were nothing remarkable. And the luxury of the room, while pleasant, just made me feel vaguely uncomfortable, even though nobody there looked to belong any more than I did.

There was a lounge pianinst, who started to play Pachabel's Canon, but then stopped in order to play the theme from St Elmo's Fire, a good song, but not in the same class at all. He was entertaining, but kind of tacky. I don't know what to think about him.

And that was the Fireside Room. I'm certain Brandon will have more to say.

The big 5-0. I suppose I should say something appropriate, but there's nothing that occurs to me. So I'll just talk about it.

The actual name is the Panther Room, and the actual waitress was Jennifer. She was very much a cool person, who (I think) got the whole idea, and was at least willing to listen. What more can one hope for?

The bar's kind of funky. Orangey light, and spring-loaded stools at the bar, and lots of formica tables. There's a massive painting of some uncertain thing opposite the bar. But really, we sat in the front, right by the window, so I didn't see much.

The drinks were nice. The glasses are very large for a single, and the prices are fine. There was a weird note on the check of "2 Don't Make" which was a little odd, but that was okay. And juice again cost more, but wasn't listed, once again kind of weird. Still, it was well worth the stop, and Jennifer made the place a good one to be #50. Odd, how it was almost #24. Either one of the bars would have been a good choice. How lucky, cause you never know.

And thanks for the wishes of good luck, Jennifer. Hopefully, you'll even read this.

I am so far behind...

Gallerias is a nice looking Mexican restaurant, with an entirely different feel to the bar. Entirely. The place is comfortable looking, and the music is different, and it seems a lot busier than the main restaurant, even though it's only 20 feet away.

Not that the bar was very busy. Rather the opposite. Just that all the help was running around in the bar area, seemingly very busy.

At this point, we waited five minutes for someone to finally notice us, sitting at the bar itself, and attempting to make eye contact repeatedly.

This was a bad sign.

Worse, we then departed from our standards, and figuring we were in a Mexican restauarant, we ordered Margaritas.

This was a big mistake.

They weren't blended, the tequila was crap, the mix was their own but was still terrible. Drinking the thing was a chore, a labor of Hercules even, and while I'm sure their high-end margaritas are a bit better, the low end one was just awful. The taste lingered well into the next bar.

The staff was equally slow at noticing we were done, at bringing us our check, and apparently at everything. Still, people in the restaurant seemed pretty pleased, so they must do something right. I just have no idea what it is.

Once upon a time, the DeLuxe was a place I hung out in with some frequency. Not being much of a loyalist to any bars, that meant a couple times a month. At that time, they had the best Key Lime pie I've ever had. Sadly, they've changed the recipe, and this is no longer the case, so that I haven't been to the DeLuxe for some time.

A trip is still worth the time, though. There's the Grill part, of course, the tables scattered around the edge of the facility. But then there's the heart of the establishment, the Bar. And quite the bar, with a full assortment of quality liquor and spirits. And the drinks, which are quite good, are reasonably priced. The bartender, while not at the top of my list, was definitely acceptable. And you can get good food, even if the pie has gone to a better place where happier people can still have it.

So will I spend a lot of time here in future? Well, I'm not sure. With the newer bars I've found and loved, I don't think so. But I guess I'll be back at some point, and if you're looking for a place in Capitol Hill, you could do a lot, a whole lot, worse. It's a nice bar, with friendly people, and if they just bring back the old pie...

Located in the Rimrock Steak House in Lake City, this place reminded me of my youth. You'd think that odd, if you didn't know that my mother, for most of my life, worked in a typical blue collar, drunks with their own stools, gradually aging semi-country bar and grill. Which was, so near as I can determine, exactly what we had in the Stirrup Room.

That is, I felt right at home. So much, and so weirdly, that it's kind of hard to say much about the place.

It was dark, there were some tables scattered about, there were a few too many pieces of flair. By "a few too many" I mean they were everywhere--banners, cutouts, you name it, they had it. But this was something I was once again very used to.

The odd part is they have live music every night. And the group of the night was Groovestock, a trio of competent amatuer level musicians, all a little long in the tooth to be in a band with any hope of making, but probably earning a small sum working as the effective house band of the Stirrup Room, and certainly having some fun with it.

We were sitting immediately in front of them as they started to play a series of cover songs, giving some of the regulars a chance to get up and dance, middle-aged style, on the tiny floor provided for such a contingency. While the moves weren't impressive, the spirit behind them was. The lady of the group was so energetic she had to swap out partners. And it was worth dancing to, if it was your style of music, because the guys of Groovestock weren't bad at all. Quite the opposite. And they brought their own psychedelic backdrop.

They also heckled us as we went to leave, which is the sign of a truly great house band, a willingness to adopt all the local customs and prejudices in favor of the place.

And there's a lot to be in favor of. The drinks were reasonably priced, and if they weren't too strong, they weren't so weak as all that. And the crowd, while not exactly warm and welcoming, seems the sort it would be very easy to get to that point. All in all, a fun little place for a drink.

And once again, thanks to Wolf for sponsoring us to another bar.

The first bar to scare me, even if just a little.

The bartender was a surly sort of woman who was easily but understandably confused by Wolf's request for a Stolichnaya and Tonic. The crowd could be described as drunks, vagabonds and randy people, since there was one couple who made out pretty much the whole time we were there, while the woman sat on her man's lap, straddling him. It was also a very tired looking place, worn down by time and who knows what.

So I felt a bit out of place. There was no hail fellow well met sentiment here. These were not fun people. These were desperate and sad people. These were barflys in the worst way.

But then, oddly enough, I spotted my old friend Joe K. from college, and we talked. He was meeting his brother for a drink, and while I thought it was a little odd of them to chose such a total dive, it made me feel a bit better about the place to know that some people with claims to normalcy were there without such an odd purpose as ours.

Well, after that talk we were all done with our drinks, so we departed from that place, never, I can assure you, to return.

I wasn't expecting much. This was the third bar of the night, following the comfotably rustic Stirrup Room and the slightly scary Cadillac Jacks, and I didn't think Lake City had anything further to offer.

However, I would have been wrong.

The bar wasn't very large, and the crowd wasn't very lively, but the staff was great. The host person seated us and agreed, reluctantly perhaps, to fry up some very tasty chicken tenders. He was all smiles, and seemed to mean it, even.

But Nancy was the treasure.

Nancy the waitress was the best. She listened to our silly patter, she let us take her picture several times, cause the lighting was iffy at best and we had to retake shot after shot. And she was polite and smiling the whole time. I really liked Nancy. Even more, I liked her as we were leaving. You see, we had left our card with the check, and just seconds after we left the front door, she ran out behind us, saying, "You guys, what is this?" And so we explained, in brief, and Nancy reached out to touch a cheek and say that she loved the idea, and loved us guys for doing it.

And Nancy, we love you for being friendly and not thinking we're crazy and for just being your sweet self.

That being said, I get to the drinks. They were fine, and better than at Cadillac Jack's, with one odd exception. Apparently the container in which my cranberry juice resided had once held tomato juice. As is well known, tomato is a strong and lingering color and flavor, and so I had the oddest drink, a sort of Bloody Cran, as it were. It wasn't awful, but it was weird, and not what I was looking for.

However, that doesn't much matter. The Lake City Bar and Grill is just about the friendliest place we'd been to date, and is still just about at the top, and so I think everyone, everywhere, should stop in for a visit, and if Nancy is there (she'll have a little sign behind the bar with her name on it) you should say hi and tell her she's great, cause she is.

This place is right near my house, and I've been by it a hundred times at least without even thinking of going in. That's because it has a long wall of windows, each with a beer sign glowing in neon. That's not really a plus. The place looks like some forgotten roadhouse in the middle of the city.

Appearances can deceive, as we've discovered time and again.

Inside, the Ballard Alehouse is spacious. A very large room, split roughly into two portions, the bar being further from the door, but still open to the restaurant portion that I presume operates during the day. There's a few pooltables right by the door, some pinball machines and a shooting game halfway over, and the dimmer bar area beyond.

Brandon, Kathryn, Vince and I made our way to the bar, already liking what we saw.

But at this point, a problem appeared. The bartender, actually, who took my order in all the wrong ways. Gin and Tonic, Vodka Cran, but he asked me what gin I wanted, and what vodka. I told him house, and he raised his eyebrow at me. Then, after making sure he had heard me right, he proceeded to condescend. This is a bad thing.

Don't presume I don't know how to drink. It pisses me off.

So he takes his rocks glasses, and ices them up, and sets them on the counter. He says, This is your gin, and this is your vodka, while pushing the appropriate buttons on his gun. As is often the case with such guns, it was programmed to spit out a particular amount. And that's fine for our purposes, cause it's the true amount. But he's staring at me while he's doing it like I'm some poor demented sap for not calling my vodka. Then he explains how if I call, he gets to pour as much as he wants, not stick with the gun portion, but he's saying it slow, like I was foreign and he wanted to be sure I got it.

Then he finally tells me the important bit in all this, which is that there's alcohol you can call for 50 cents more than the house shit. Why he didn't mention this first, I have no idea, since obviously the idea of using the house bothered him. Most places, it's 1.50, give or take, for the good stuff, and that's just too much.

So we had passable drinks. But Vince calls his vodka, and his drink is strong. Not just a little strong, but massively so.

Which almost makes up for the condescending. But not quite.

But anyway, the drinks were fine, or better than fine if you call and pay a bit more (plus you get to avoid the lectures from the smart ass bartenders). And the pool tables didn't look too busy, and there was a ton of space in the joint, so you can bring all your friends. It's so close to my house I mean to go back when we're done with this quest.

But I can assure you, I'm going to call my vodka.

There isn't much to report here. The bar is dark, the bartender, bless her heart, thought we were a little bit daft, the space is kind of acceptable and yet totally commercial, and the bartender of a future bar (see number 66) once worked here, but moved on to a far better locale.

The drinks were okay, but nothing to write home about. I will say that Kathryn took some nice pictures, once we can finally post them...paging Sean Y....paging Sean Y.

They have outdoor seating for when the weather is nice, and they play soccer games on the telly, as it were. Did I mention it's an English pub, not an Irish one?

Nothing much further to say, except that local bartenders apparently like the joint, so they've got to be doing something right.

Cotton.

Dana.

I have to begin by listing their names, cause they were just that cool.

Cotton was a bartender who worked at El Camino until the 20th. We got him on his fourth to last day. He was pretty fucking cool.

Dana was perhaps even better.

But on to the story.

I should start by saying that Vince began his two bar run as a sponsor at this point. He bellied up to the bar, and ordered drinks for us, while Kathryn took arty pictures of flames and such. The El Camino hides its bar goodness, with the darkened restaurant in the front, and the bar, lit only by dim lights and candles, in the rear. So that we walked up to the entryway uncertain if they were even open.

Still, we pushed through the rubber-edged doors, and then the real doors behind, and entered the restaurant, passing through to the bar. Where Vince ordered, and where we sat down to enjoy a momentary sip before Brandon went to the bar.

Which led to a lengthy talk with Dana. Which led to us being comped Camino Juice, a fine shot of Jager, Malibu Rum, pineapple, cranberry and who knows what else. A great shot overall. And our first comped drink. Dana was totally cool with the idea of the quest, and so was Cotton, so we got the shots. I love these people, and I love the El Camino Bar.

Have I mentioned they rocked my world?

We had other bars to go to, but the El Camino is technically and rather oddly the first bar we've come back to. In that later in the night, we returned, and Brandon re-entered, and Dana was nice, and Cotton was almost psychic in his forethought. The doors were locked, but the bar was still open to the boys of 570, and this is just one of the many reasons why I will say:

GO TO THE EL CAMINO. GO THERE NOW. TIP WELL. THEY ARE GOOD PEOPLE. YOU WILL LIKE THEM.

Did I mention I liked it there?

An Irish Pub, and not at all outstanding among them. Once it was located two blocks further south, but when the building it was located in was torn down, it moved two blocks away (as did the ass-tastic Red Door) and settled into a new location.

Whether it's better, I don't know, since I was never there before they moved. And in their new site, they were no better. The bartender wasn't having any of our story, the drinks were nothing special, the space was acceptable, even spacious, but still, I didn't feel like the Dubliner was worth a return trip. Maybe if they were a little more welcoming...

But who can say? I just know I'm not going back.

Further props to Vince for sponsoring a second bar in the same night. Have I mentioned also how much we love our sponsors? thank you, Vincent F.

Located inside the ugly yet awesome hulk that is EMP, the Liquid Lounge is almost, but not quite, the sort of theme bar you'd expect from the sort of theme park that EMP is.

That is, it's kind of pricy, and there's almost a feel that it wants to be trendy.

But really, it's not trying too hard, and in the end, that matters.

The space is huge. The ceiling rises so high above you, even on the second floor, that it's kind of weird. And with the odd bluish lighting, it seems like some alien space above you, since the ceiling is rounded and rough. The bar is all about open space; on every side almost, there are galleries opening over the lower level, so that just railings keep the bar in check, as it were, from spilling onto the first floor. Really, it's a pretty small place, but the illusion of space is great.

The bar itself is large, with a pretty broad wine selection, and a list of specialty house drinks. Most of those, however, are rather weird, so I'm kind of against them. The prices aren't cheap, but the drinks are pretty strong.

There's often live music. On our visit, it was so loud you could barely talk over it, and it wasn't really good, either. I don't even know who the band was, but the crowd that stood swaying in front of them indicated that a lot of their friends appreciated the no-cover music.

Brandon's friend Brad and his girlfriend Maria joined us, although it was impossible, due to the band, to actually speak to them. So we moved on rather quickly.

The best part of the bar, however, was that we gained a new sponsor. Brad joined the ranks by ponying up for the Liquid Lounge, and so many thanks to Brad and the fun Maria.

After departing the ever-loud Liquid Lounge, we hopped into Brad's car, with the nifty blue and red dashboard lighting, and drove the short hop over to Tini Bigs.

This is a "classy joint" as it were. The place has a list of scotch shots, ranging from about 8 dollars to 40 bucks, which in tiny print takes up a full page. They have a cigar menu. And they sell memorabilia, but nice looking stuff.

And, as the name implies, they also produce a variety of apparently high-quality marTinis. Which we, being not well off enough to live the high life, promptly ignored. However, Brad and Maria had them, and they seemed relatively pleased.

What we did have was well drinks made with reasonably good liqour. Mine was powered by Finalandia, which I happen to like quite a bit, and the drink was strong enough to be noticable. We retreated to the dark back corner of the sizable seating area, or rather I did, since it took several minutes more for everyone else to be able to order. Since we were all in a clump, that's a little odd, but I guess the patrons at the actual bar were commanding some attention, too.

With a place like this, full of specialty items and such, you might think the drinks were pricey. And you'd be right, they didn't come cheap. But at least they came with name-brand liqour, and at least it seemed like the place itself was worth the price. While a drink for about 5 dollars is a bit much for me, when I get the quality overall, I don't mind the occasional visit.

It's got Luchadoriffic decor and indie rock cred, all in a prime location on Capitol Hill.

(For those not in the know, Luchadors are Mexican wrestlers, almost always masked and practicing a high-flying style of wrestling which is very entertaining to watch, but very confusing to the USA's larger, slower wrestlers.)

The Cha Cha Lounge is attached to Bimbo's Bitchin Burrito Kitchen, which I'm informed has fine food, and as a result, you can just pop next door for your food needs, and the Cha Cha doesn't really bother with edibles. That puts the focus squarely where it should be, the drinking. The bartenders, mainly of the band shirt and tattoos type, sling up just about everything at the crowded bar, and they're pretty fast on the draw. They have to be in a place that's always this full. If the drinks aren't the strongest I've had, they still are passably powerful, and if the seating almost always leaves something to be desired, since the place is (have I mentioned this) pretty much eternally packed, that's okay. The Cha Cha is, for me at least, a great place to start off a night. It's a place to meet with people for a drink before going on to do other things (in this case, more drinking...)

I presume for other people, and I know they're out there, it's the place to hang with their friends full time. I know a lot of people for whom the Cha Cha is the bar of choice, even though they live no where near it. The fact that major bus routes run past it and very close to it can't hurt.

For what it matters, much of the bar is decorated in a tropical tiki style, but other than the back room, it's really pretty dark in here, and smoky too, so you'll never really notice. The painting of wrestlers are more noticable, and if you're in the know, you'll realize many, if not all of them, are real wrestlers.

For all the crowds and the smoke and the fact that I never stay there, I do like the Cha Cha, and if you've never been, you should give it a try. Meet your friends there for a drink, and if you somehow get a table, stay for a second round, cause it may be the only time that happens.

This is a service bar, and I don't think it really counts. But we've drunk here more often than most places, cause we see the Money and Run series very regularly, and we were seeing Money and Run Episode 3 after leaving the Cha Cha, so here we were, and here we drank. Here we also met up with Tony and Farida and three others of their friends, and here we saw a great play for the second time, and I still laughed my ass off.

The bartenders at the little bar are a bit raw. A lot raw. Our bartender, called only so because she was indeed tending a bar, as in, watching over it, didn't know what was in a Screwdriver. And then, couldn't make one, because there wasn't any orange juice. Nor was there any rum. It was oddly like showing up to a houseparty late in the night and realizing it was a Ginny McGin or nothing. The place has only the vaguest connection to an actual bar.

But, it provides a wonderful service. You can get your drink, watch your play, and even get another drink at intermission. They run drink specials in accordance with the play being performed, and while a lot of those drinks show evidence of having been concocted by someone who doesn't know how to tend bar, they're at least original. And the prices are okay, especially if you've already shelled out the money to see a play.

So I won't recommend the bar, cause you can't just walk in and have a drink. But I will say, see a play at Theater Schmeater, cause they're good and good people, and while you're there, have a drink, just because you can take it into the theater with you.

The loneliest Chinese restaurant in town, Chen's Village sits in an inauspicious curve in a long, lonely road. How they survive, I have no idea, although I presume the weekday lunch crowd is decent, and they seemed to be making orders for delivery while we monopolized the play.

This wasn't done by filling it up, mind you. This was done by being there. Cause we were it. From the time we arrived til the time we left, there wasn't another customer. Oh, a woman came in wondering about taking over the whole place for an event, but she wasn't actually buying anything, so she's not a customer. And that was as we were paying the check.

So the place looks like a family style restaurant, with formica tables and padded back chairs, that just happened to acquire Chinese accents from someplace. Like your great aunt Mabel's place, who went to Chinatown when she was a kid and loved the look of it. That's about the way Chen's looked.

The menu was pretty extensive, and had offerings in both Chines and English, so they must have more authenticity that the decor suggests. My chow mein was pretty good, with good chicken. But that's not actually the purpose of this review.

Rather, I've got to talk about the drinks, and the bar. But there's not much to say. The bar was a counter, and three tables, hidden off to the side. Like the rest of the place, it was desolate and lonely. And the drinks were not so good. They were strong enough, I suppose, but they tasted a little off. Like perhaps the cranberry juice hadn't been called on to serve in some while, and was uncertain about what to taste like. It was drinkable, but that was about it.

Chen's Village, forgotten in the open, is best left alone where it is.

The Soundtrack is the first drinking establishment on the way into Magnolia, and that seems perfectly alright. It's a normal place, the kind of place where two guys on a weird quest can walk on in, sit down at the bar, and not feel at all out of place. Okay, at least this half can do that. But then, it's another one like the bars of my boyhood.

The patrons were overwhelmingly male, overwhelmingly working class, and not that you'd likely notice at first, good guys to sit next to at the bar. They're the kind of guys who can sit quiet if that's the way it is, or can talk sports, or chat up the bartender, or whatever. Great bar company, really.

The drinks were reasonably priced, reasonably made, and served by Holly, who was a nice woman that knew how to handle her bar crowd. She was funny, mostly about herself which is a good thing, interested in our mission, and seemed to have admirers aplenty at the bar, which is understandable. And she started the string of lady bartenders we'd have in Magnolia, all of them pleasant.

I probably won't go back to the Soundtrack. I like the place well enough, but it's not the sort of hang out my crowd is likely to assume. I hope, though, that when I start to get a little older, and settled into my neighborhood and such, that there's a Soundtrack nearby to be my regular watering hole. And that there's a Holly there to be called a flirt by some guy who's obviously sweet on her. I think I'd like that a lot.

Four blocks up from the Soundtrack is a bar I want to get more familiar with. Mulleady's is an Irish pub, owned by an Irishman as all good Irish pubs should, and on walking in struck me as about the most welcoming place I've been on this whole quest so far.

It's softly lit inside, and there's a few tables in the front portion, as well as the long bar. In back, there's an empty space which one presumes is for the regular performances they have, and also a nook filled with comfortable chairs and couchs. And then there's the back yard. A real back yard, and they have barbeques there on nice Sundays, bring a side dish and they provide the meat. Plus, they have trivia nights.

One other thing before I get to the heart of matter, the bar we bellied up to. And that other thing is the urinal. The men's room has the largest urinal I have ever seen. Made me wish we had Kathryn with us, cause I'm pretty sure she could have fit inside without trying, and that would have made a great picture.

So, on to the bar. Like any Irish pub worth the name, they feature Harp's, and I was sorely tempted. But we had more bars to go to, and beer seldom agrees with our quest. So we just had our standards, and my vodka cran was decently strong in a good sized glass, and worth the reasonable price. But the bartender was the best thing, I think. Darcy has worked at Mulleady's since it opened, which is only 14 months ago, so she knows all the regulars of whom there are many. She said all but one of the employees can walk to work with ease, so it's really a local place. She's willing to talk, she's got a lot to say, and she's very easy on the eyes. For me, that last bit doesn't matter, but I mention it in the interest of the quest.

Good drinks, friendly staff, a cosy bar (playing jazz music, no less), the offer of free meat in exchange for things that aren't meat, what more could you want? Nothing, I say, and Mulleady's joins the short list (the Pacific Inn and the El Camino are the obvious other two) of which I intend to become a regular patron after I'm done. And if you think Magnolia's too far to go for a new bar, you're wrong. Not when this is the bar. Go to Mulleady's, have a drink, and tell them 570bars sent you.

At the south side of Magnolia, after much searching (we didn't have a map) we finally arrived at McGraw St, where two restaurants and two bars have liqour licenses. The restaurants being closed, and not seemingly have seperate bars in any case, we scratched them from the list. And so we came to the Village Pub.

Okay, by day it's a restaurant, too, but at night, it's a bar. There's a couple of pool tables, and a long long bar counter, and Brandon and I sat at the very end, almost chosing to take a table, which would have been a shame.

Brandon started off on the wrong foot, asking if they were still serving food. The bartender gave him a look, and said that people who asked if they served food this late without even ordering a drink really made her mad. So I inserted my order for a vodka cran, Brandon ordered a G+T, and all was well. The bartender smiled, said that was better, and that of course they had fried food if we wanted some.

We got our drinks quickly, and introduced ourselves to Tracey, our new best friend of a bartender, who was funny and had the sort of attitude I love in a bartender, where she won't take your shit, but won't give you back too much shit. It's a fine line, but she walks it well. We also met Nina at the bar, who was a friend of Tracey, and we sort of met John, who was doing some work installing supports for railing, and was a friend of Nina's. Or something like that. Brandon in fact became more acquainted with John, or rather, his food, when Tracey, deciding not to bother with making any food, slipped John's onion rings, or the half he hadn't eaten, over to Brandon, who was only looking for a snack, and was thus satisfied.

We ended up talking rather a bit, and discovered that Nina tends bar for the weirdest shortest shift in Ballard once a week, and that Tracey knows Valerie from the Pacific Inn, oh those short weeks ago that seem so very long. Also that both were going out of town to different locales for a week or so. And more, of course, the sort of pointless bar talk that is great fun but slips away very quickly.

Somehow in there I ended up getting a second drink without really ordering it, but I didn't complain to much, and just drank and paid like a good boy.

If the Village Pub weren't so far out in Magnolia (and it is pretty far out there) I'd probably return. It's a fun place. But it's really out there, and even Tracey who works there thought so. So while I liked it, I think I'll just give it a pass in future. It was really the people, anyway, and we'll see them again elsewhere.

We finished out Magnolia with this Chinese restaurant bar. There were a handful of older local patrons, the bartender was a nice older woman named Nina (two Ninas in one night?) and the drinks were fine. But it was a small bar, attached to a restaurant whose food we didn't sample, way out in the middle of nowhere, as far as the rest of Seattle is concerned. So while Nina was nice, and we talked about bar dice games, and she even seemed interested in our quest (which made it four for four in one night), I doubt I'll return. Just too far out, and not remarkable enough. But a nice enough stopping point, and the music on the jukebox wasn't bad.

Deciding that 69 was an important number, we put it off a day to pick a bar that wouldn't be terrible. Brandon chose the Bad Juju Lounge, we posted notice we were going there, and Wolf volunteered to sponsor not just us, but everyone who showed up, for a round.

When Brandon and I arrived, bringing Jesse, we discovered that a couple unexpected guests were already there, that being Bridgette whose birthday had been at Fado (#26, back on 4/2/2), along with Danielle and Erin who had been there for that same event. With Wolf picking up a round for the seven of us, I was tempted to go for some sort of name brand liqour, but decided against it. I think I'm for the idea of keeping everything to house vodka, just so that I can get an even feeling for the lowest quality drink a place might sling, cause that's while I'll get normally, anyway. And that's what most of our dozens of readers will likely get anyway, too. It's like I'm performing a service to the community.

So we sat in the dark bar, with heavy metal music playing and tattooed types all about us. There's nothing wrong with all of that, of course, and I kind of like Bad Juju, but if I'm going to hang in this type of bar, it'll be the Cha Cha any time. Although there is more seating in Bad Juju, and drinks are probably better. Pricing is about the same, with the Juju running at about $3.50 for wells, not really a bad price for a Capitol Hill "hot spot". However, the Cha wins in the decor contest, if only because the Juju is even darker, and so you can't see much of anything that's going on in the place.

Also showing up were Tony and Farida, and their friend Paul (?), who stopped in just to commemorate the occasion, and after a quick drink had to move on.

We took some pictures, and Danielle revealed her ability to appear in every photo taken, and then we decided to move on to another bar or two, since we were so close to the Vogue and Barca (that's with a soft c, like in Barcelona.) I know the doorman at the Vogue, so Brandon and I were going to try to get in without cover by explaining our quest, and the girls were headed there anyway, so we decided to meet Wolf and Jesse two doors down in twenty minutes, and off we went for next door.

The Vogue's pretty much a goth club, which used to be down by Belltown but migrated about two-three years ago up to Capitol Hill. In it's location right between Bad Juju Lounge and Barca, it makes up part of a very busy strip of bardom. But it does very often feature cover, and while we had to drink there, we didn't want to pay 5 bucks or thereabouts just to get a drink and leave. While I'm not opposed overall to covers, I want to be paying for the ambiance, which in this case, we were planning on skipping.

Not that I mind goth bars; I saw people in the Vogue who I know vaguely, or who I recognize, from the years I used to go and be a token normal person at Machine Werks/the Mercury. And the music is generally good, and it is invariably the case that the drinks are strong.

There was live music at the Vogue that night, a group whose name I have forgotten. Bridgette, Danielle and/or Erin knew the singer of the band, so they were all coming to see the band play, but first I had to talk to Ogre.

I've known Ogre for years, and in fact I apparently sound just like him when throwing up. So I was hoping I could explain that we were just there for a drink, and could we get in without cover. Ogre's a big sweet guy who just happens to quite often appear exactly like a skinhead, and in this case he was totally cool and let us in for our quick drink. And quick it was, because we had people waiting next door at Barca. Still, as expected the drinks were strong, the crowd was thick for the band, and pretty much everyone in the main club was very much attentive to them. The bar is very far in back, which is an odd thing for a club, but it leaves all the front space for the mingling and performing and everything else that's so loud you can't hear to order a drink, so it makes good sense.

Ten minutes (at most) later, we stopped to thank Ogre and fill out his 570bars card, and then we went on to Barca.

Barca's a pretty place. Right from the start, where the giant wooden doors look like something from a medieval church, on into the candlelit bar with the velvet couchs, the heavily carpeted and rugged floor, and the crowd of beautiful peope, Barca is visually pleasing.

Fortunately, that's not all it has going for it. While a lot of the people there are in groups, it's entirely possible to have conversations with people, often on the oddest topics. As that didn't happen on this occasion, cause we were meeting people, I'll save my odd Barca story for later.

The place is big, and there's half of an upper floor, too, so Brandon and I had no idea where Wolf and Jesse might be. We were about to order from the bar, conveniently placed ten feet from the doors, when Jesse appeared and announced we didn't need to buy anything, our drinks were waiting upstairs. So, smiling, we made our way to a table on the upper level, where it was a little quieter, and you could talk with ease and get a nice view of the lower level, with the candles making it look like some cityscape. We sat and sipped at our drinnks, good quality stuff for about 4 bucks, and discussed the ride situation. Wolf having had a few was going to let Jesse drive, since they live in the same house, and they live near me. But then Brandon and I decided we should revisit the Wildrose, since we were so close, and so that was the plan.

And so Wolf had sponsored his second bar of the night, which seems to me to be his fourth bar overall, according to my slightly spotty records. Many thanks to my brother for his generous contributions, which were especially appreciated by the Bad Juju crowd.

As to Barca: Barca is pretty. Barca has pretty strong drinks. Barca is a place to be. I know I'll be there again once I'm done with this little quest.

From the outside, it looked a lot like it was closed. There aren't any windows, and so you can't see the place inside. And beyond the doors, it still wasn't exactly packed. But since we like to visit the bars when they're empty or close to, that was kind of a plus. And with Bush Garden, I think it was a huge plus. Without it being the dead time between dinner and the nightly Karaoke, we wouldn't have had such a great time.

We came to the place because Trudy, the great bartender at the 1st Hill Bar and Grill (#47) had recommended we go see Jojo who tended bar at the Garden on Friday. It had taken a couple of weeks, but we finally made the trip. I walked up to the bar and asked if the woman behind it was indeed Jojo, she said she was, and we were off. We explained that Trudy had sent us, ordered our drinks, and got to explaining the whole quest.

Jojo liked the idea a lot. And we liked Jojo a lot. She was friendly, open, talkative, all the things you look for in a good bartender. The drinks were good, and not pricey, which is always better. And the food (we had lemon-grass chicken) was superb. I didn't even mean to have any, but Jojo said it was great and I should try some, and pretty soon I was on my third peice. She showed us how to twist our chopstick wrappers into chopstick stands, which was cool.

But I have forgotten one thing, which I must now mention. The hot towels. With food at the Garden, you get hot towels. Perhaps they're just for the hands, which is nice, but I've always been a guy to put a hot towel on the face, which is probably from a few too many old cartoons featuring shaving at a barber shop. However, and whatever the purpose of the towels, they were the most relaxing thing. I loved it. And this is just normal treatment.

We talked with a nice woman a couple of seats down, explaining to her as well as Jojo. Her name turned out to be Karen, and she and her husband own the place. She was very inquisitive, and funny, and I thought she was just a really friendly customer until right at the end, when we found out she was the owner. Which is cool, that it never came up.

So there's good drinks, good food, good staff. The place has Karaoke every night, and they also have tatami dining rooms you can reserve just by calling in, for your party of 4 or larger, since they can be rearranged. There's a sushi bar, too, and they have weekday sushi specials. Or, in other words, the place is a dream. We're going back for dinner soon, I'm sure of that.

My second favorite bit, after the towels, was the crane. Brandon and I each got one, just origami cranes, but it was a nice touch, I thought.

Great place, overall.

Located in the Yen Wor Restaurant in the Admiral District of West Seattle, this place is a quiet little bar with a couple of pool tables located behind a Chinese restaurant. While I've generally liked Chinese restaurant lounges, which as a whole seem to have strong drinks and a good look, this place was just plain and nothing remarkable. The drinks were okay, at acceptable prices, but there wasn't anything special. We didn't even try to talk to the bartender, and the crowd, small as it was, wasn't inviting. While the cheap pool might serve as an attraction, I don't think there's any reason to go back. Coming off the bundle of surprises that was the Bush Garden, it was a big letdown.

I hadn't thought, since I used to live there, that there was anyplace in Seattle for the cool, pretty crowd to go to. However, the Admiral Pub appears to have proved me wrong. The crowd was good looking, young, college types but without the frat feel that much of the U District presents. And the bar itself was pretty decent--pool tables, good music, friendly staff. Josh the bartender served up a quick pair of drinks, commented it was kind of slow (I didn't agree, but then I realized it was Friday, not Thursday as I had for a moment thought), and when we told him about our quest, he started listing off bars nearby.

Eventually, he got us a little list of bars just in the very near vicinity that we should visit, but we were really only looking for one more, and Josh's advice was the Benbow down the alley from the Admiral Pub's back door. So we chatted with Josh and a second bartender, Randy, for a bit longer, and then we finished our drinks and headed off to the Benbow.

As to the Admiral Pub, I think if you're out in the pleasant semi-suburbia of West Seattle, you should definitely go. In that sleepy little part of the city, it's a place where things are happening, even if it was a little slow for a Friday. The drinks were fine, so there's no problem there, and the crowd and staff are good.

Type: Neighborhood Bar
Class: Midclass

Cooper’s is a simple looking establishment from the outside with a red overhang. Walking inside it is obvious that this is a local pub with local working class people and they are here to have a drink and watch the game. The place is mostly seating with a medium sized straight bar, 2 dartboards, a red felt pool table and a couple of TVs. There is also food service (like every other place in Seattle) that puts out a decent looking plate of nachos. In addition there is an impressive beer selection on tap, but I can’t remember if I saw Guinness on tap.

The bar staff was on the attractive side of average and they poured a decent drink. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t really call it a $4.25 drink so it is a little on the spendier side. The crowd was distinctly in the older category (late 30s through 50s). Off to one side there were board games (which I wonder if anyone actually uses).

The décor of note includes large metal signs proclaiming old product endorsements for beer and what not. There are high padded stools with plaid covering and a Juke Box. Otherwise it was fairly unremarkable.

Considering the huge impression this place made on me, I give it 2 Martini Glasses out of 5.

-wOOt

The Benbow is a nautical themed restaurant and bar. For some reason, I was unable to open the back door, which led us to think that the place was closed for a moment, until Brandon, after we'd circled the building almost, went back to the first door and, well, turned the knob. I felt a bit like a monkey.

However, Brandon repaid the foolishness by not being able to find the bar, which is around a bit of a sharp turn that he missed, heading into the bowels of the building while I wisely looked for the older bartender as our guide.

And then we saw the bar.

I don't think anything could have prepared me for the place, even though Josh at the Admiral Pub had said it looked like a ship in the back. I didn't take him seriously enough. The Benbow has a bar counter with about 6 or 7 stools, all occupied, a little space next to that which appears to be for performances, or some such, a handful of table, and then the back of the bar.

It's incredible. I'm not certain if it's good, although I loved it, but it is incredible. It's modeled like the aft end of a sailing ship from the interior. There's a bank of windows, as one might see in a pirate movie, colored and lightly illuminated. There's hanging lamps, carved wooden supports of the roof, and a latticed patch on the ceiling. And okay, we weren't at the bar, and the only conversation we heard was the trashy couple seated a couple tables from us, but who cares? The ship made up for any possible flaw in the crowd, about which I can't say much.

The drinks were reasonably strong, but again, it scarcely matters. They could have been Murphy's weak, and we still would have been happy. The ship won us over completely. I think the prices were okay, but this was our fourth bar, and I wasn't paying at this place, so really, I don't recall too well.

I should mention that the waitress, who I understand is a bit of an institution, had a gigantic mass of hair that surrounded her head like a knight's helmet. It was frightening and impressive.

A quick trip to the U-District for a few bars before a party. Seems like a great idea. However, I'm not thrilled with any of them.

First up is the Excalibur Room, located in the University Plaze Hotel. The hotel has a medieval theme, and the Excalibur room featured big kingly chairs. I really like the look of the hotel, I should say, because it's one of the three positive things I'll have to say.

Now for the second one. They have snack mix in bowls on the bar, and a pretty decent snack mix.

And now the last one. The drinks were poured generously, and weren't too pricey. You might think that one was the best of all, and would outweigh my concerns about the Excalibur Room.

And yet...

The bartender was very, very slow. There were hardly any people there, but it took a long time to get our drinks, after it had taken a while to get them ordered, and later it took a while to get and pay our check. He didn't talk much, and hovered at the other end of the bar.

Why the other end of the bar? Cause that was where the other two customers were. Two. This place was rather large, but there were all of four of us in the room. In two sets of two. So the slow service becomes an even bigger problem, cause it's not like he had all that much to do. And while I like a lighter crowd, this was ridiculous.

Lastly, and not so annoying to me, there was no smoking. So we ended up knoshing a lot of the snack mix, and that was that.

So if you want a very private meeting with someone, or if you want to bring in a group and take over the place, I could recommend the Excalibur Room. If not, don't go there.

All through my college years, I heard about this place, how people would go there to study and drink. Since I didn't study while I was in college, there was no allure for me. I'd rather just go to a party and drink, and so I did.

Now, I finally arrived for the first time on the quest. And realized I had no idea how to enter the joint. So we circled the building, very nearly, and finally found the stairs leading down into the basement of the College Inn, wherein one might find the Pub.

I like the place, I'll say that up front. There's a fireplace, a lot of tables in several rooms. It's dim but not in a 20 watt/goth bar way, rather in a light isn't nearby but is around kind of way. The furniture is solid, heavy wooden tables and such, and there's a lot of seating, in the front, in the back, in the quiet room. There's also a lot of people, but I didn't see any of the studying I'd heard so much about. Perhaps because it was Friday night, and no one studies then.

It took a moment to get our drinks, which were about the middle range as far as priciness. Sadly, they were on the low end for strength. Not Dante's, and definitely not Murphy's, but they weren't strong enough to note in any way. Your nine year old nephew could belt would back and then ask for a double.

So while I like the look of the place, and I like descending into the bowels of the earth to get there, I don't think I can recommend it at all.

Brandon and I met Sandy from my work at the Scarlett Tree at about 2 pm. It was right in her neighborhood, and she had agreed to sponsor us for the bar that day. We were supposed to have an earlier sponsor, but it kind of fell through. Still, I thought if we found another bar nearby, Sandy might sponsor two places, cause she's cool that way.

It was midday. And a sunny one at that. Brandon and I kind of wanted to sit at their ourdoor patio, a tiny space crammed with tables, but Sandy said it was too bright. When we went to look at the patio a moment later, we agreed with her.

The Scarlett Tree is a restaurant and bar that has live music/DJs five nights a week, so there's cover there a lot on those nights. Midday, it was the haunt of a very normal crowd. The place is done in black, mostly, with a lot of wood and velvet curtains around the performance space. The service was kind of slow and kind of clumsy, but the onion rings were good, beer battered and tasty.

The drinks, however, were at best okay. And that's at best. Really, I thought they were rather weak. The third weak drink in a row, and I was starting to get a little upset.

Still, the Tree was quirky. There were hanging records in the restaurant portion of the building, and there was, for no apparent reason, a triangle with bar to ring it hanging at the bar. Quirky is nice, but doesn't make up for weak drinks that get spilled when they're being placed on the table.

Sandy agreed with some reluctance to sponsor a second bar if we could find on nearby, cause she had stuff she needed to do. She thought she was in the clear, though, cause there aren't any bars nearby, she thought. Just a couple of pubs.

We left the Scarlett Tree in search of another bar.

I'm not quite sure how to list these guys. Their name, according to the place, was the Presidio Bar and Grill, but the liquor license is listed under Cafe Presidio. So really, I'll just call them Presidio.

It's a new place, new enough that Sandy who lives about three blocks away hasn't been there. There's also a related smoke shop, which she has been too, but is uncertain of the hours of, where they also serve beer and wine. But the Presidio is supposed to be a Bar and Grill, so it had spirits.

We got there a little early. It was 3:15, and while the door was unlocked, they said they weren't open for 15 minutes. Looking at the place, you would think they weren't open for a couple more weeks, since it seems hardly done. But it is, instead, a work in progress, and not a bad one.

After killing 15 minutes at a DVD sales place, we came back to Presidio and were allowed in, although a moment later, upon asking, we were told they didn't actually open until 4, but had opened a little early cause there were customers.

The normal bartender wasn't there, so our man Jan attempted the task. Everything was still put away, so it took him a minute to get the goods out on the bar, and then he mixed the three of us as strong a batch of cocktails as your drunken uncle could wish for. While we sipped at our beveraged, we chatted across the bar with Jan, and discovered they had only opened in January, and were still working on getting up to full speed.

The Presidio has a couple of pooltables, and they have food but not yet their full menu cause they're not quite ready. They're also only open 4 pm to 1 am at present, but soon, they'll be an 11 am to 2 am place, which is good, cause they were very friendly and good people. The regular bartender, who appeared at about 3:45, fine for a 4 pm opening, was a fun person also, and allowed Jan to go back to what he was doing, which seemed to be hanging out with the owner and a couple of others in the back by the pool tables.

I like the place, and I think I'll go back, cause they treated us right. Also, it's the only decent bar in the area, so go there. And get a toothpick, even if you don't need one, cause the dispenser, featuring a bird that grabs the fancy picks in it's beak, is way cool.

Once again, Sandy sponsored, so many thanks to her for two bars in one day. The second drink was about as much as she could take, and in an almost spinny mood, she walked the two blocks past Brandon's car to her house.

We were supposed to meet Alan at the Galway Arms at 4 pm, which is good, cause they open at 4. As it turned out, hurrying over from the Presidio, we were a few minutes late, which meant that Alan had already settled in with his wonderful girlfriend Bridgit, and was waiting for us.

A very brief aside, which has nothing to do with anything. I work with Alan and Bridgit, and they are the cutest couple to walk the earth since at least the 19th century.

We ordered out drinks quickly, because the bartender was free, and then moved to a table. The Galway is an Irish pub, and has a typical Irish Pub feel. There's a lot of wood, a lot of various Irish drink related memorabilia, that sort of thing. But they have good drinks, as we discovered when the bartender brought them. And their fish and chips basket was excellent, the fish tasty, the tartar full of dill, the fries seasoned. We chatted about the previous bars while I ate, and Alan, who was our sponsor for the Galway, asked if there was anywhere else nearby he could sponsor us at.

I said the Irish Immigrant across the street, but then Bridgit jumped in and said she was getting that one, and Alan just smiled. They're so cute.

The Galway's a nice Irish pub, but we had time constraints, since we had to be at the U Bookstore by 5, so we hurried on to the Immigrant across the street.

I've been here for after dinner drinks, for pre-Paragon show drinks, for meetings and for a 30th Birthday Wake. It's odd that I've been to the Immigrant so much and never bothered to cross the street to the Galway until this quest. But then, that's one of the things this quest is about.

The Immigrant is a large Irish pub. There's a rather large lower floor, with a non-smoking section, and there's an upper floor that's roughly half the size of the lower floor. Once again, there's a lot of wood, and there's a big, big TV on the lower floor that gets moved aside when they have entertainment, bands and Irish music and suchlike. There's a lot of space, especially in the middle of the day, on a Sunday, so we got a big booth for just the four of us.

The bartender had to see all of our IDs, foiling Bridgit's attempt to get our drinks at the bar, but he came out after just a moment and took our orders. He was very pleasant, and returned with a good amount of haste with our drinks. Which was good, cause time was running out. While food was considered, because they have a most excellent artichoke parmesan dip with tortilla chips, we weren't really in any position to take the time.

Brandon and I drank our fully acceptable drinks quickly, but even in the few moments we were there, the bartender came over to check and see if we were alright. During previous visits, I've noted the same level of attentiveness from the staff, crowd permitting, and I like that a lot. However, we had no time, so we said we were fine, and bidding adieu to Alan and Bridgit, who were staying to finish off their Harp and hard cider on tap, respectively, we moved on.

Big ups to Bridgit for sponsoring out of the blue, and also to Alan again for picking up the Galway Arms.

LeeAnne from the bookstore had promised to pick up the Waterwheel, pretty much the last bar in the Crown Hill area of north Ballard that we had to pick up. That very same Sunday as we went out with Sandy, then Alan and Bridgit, was to be the day.

So we picked her up at the bookstore after it closed, at 5, and drove over to Ballard, and to the Waterwheel, which is announced by a sign that looks like it was made by a 9 year old with a very simple program, featuring a cheeseburger, a martini and the name on a white background.

Inside, the sun shining past the bath-towel curtains (nice sets, mind you, and matching for each window), there were a half-dozen older customers, and the oldest of them all, the bartender, who had to be at or beyond retirement age. He still had pep, though, and got us our drinks with haste. They were pretty strong, but by this time, what did that matter? It was bar five, and we were reasonably happy, me more than Brandon. Still, the drinks were of a good quality, and the bar provided entertainment aplenty.

The promise of Taco night, and of free but random food on Wednesday nights, was exciting. The towels attracted attention. The very smallness and oldness of the bar (and crowd) was interesting. It seemed oddly like the sort of place one should visit early and often, and everyone should at least go there once. It's an experience.

The drinks are pretty strong, and pretty cheap, so there's nothing wrong there. The crowd seems friendly, as is so often the case in a bar that seems to have regulars. Quite the opposite of what I would have once believed.

LeeAnne picked up her sponsorship props with the Waterwheel, and I have to say it was an excellent choice.

The Pig and Whistle is a restaurant that becomes a bar late in the day, and it was the first bar of the Greenwood area in a night that was meant to have 4 bars. We couldn't find room for the four of us (Brandon, me, Sean, Wolf) at the bar, so we got a table, where a haughty waitress came by and took our order eventually, and got us our drinks rather quickly after that.

The place looks like a decent looking restaurant, with some interesting art of some sort of modernist style hanging about, and a massive Dido, Queen of Carthage over the bar itself, hanging precariously on wires at an angle. There's a pool table in back, which makes it obvious that it's a bar at all times even when the full menu is on offer, since only space seperates the main seating from the pool, and not even a great amount of space. It's actually a pretty attractive locale.

That said, the service wasn't at top speed, the drinks were only okay, and the prices weren't the best, although I'm not bothered so much by the last, as Wolf once again stepped up to sponsor us. I think I'm running out of words of praise for my brother by this time, so I'll just say it was very nice of him.

Brandon went to talk to the bartender for a bit, explaining the quest to someone who might be interested, as it was obvious that our waitress was not all about paying much attention to people. And while he was there, a disturbing trend developed.

A table over from us, against the wall, two women were talking and eating fries. One of them had already revealed herself as easily amused, laughing quite often. But while Brandon was gone, she began to laugh alarmingly, laughs so long and cacklicious that one began to grow somewhat afraid for her safety and the sanity of others. For a time, after everything we said she burst into new gales of laughter, just because she was laughing that often. And she was also a somewhat larger woman, so that she was a big, jolly, laughing person, a scary type to have at the next table.

When