THE LUSH LIFE

Vol. 3, No. 4 - Atlantic City 2008

2008-04-28T07:15:00.000-07:00

The LUSH LIFE by DONATO

MONDAY

Arrive in Atlantic City via Academy’s 7:30am bus, which rolls Saturday, Sunday, and Monday only. Otherwise, one has to wait until 8 with people starting to line up before 7 anyway. The bus stops first at the Claridge, and then the Tropicana, where I get off because it’s nearer to Caesars, my destination. I used to go to the Tropicana all the time. They were very generous with comps, and I had some success with the slot machines. I don’t know why I stopped going there. There’s even a great neighborhood bar across the street from the Tropicana, the Chelsea Pub, which is open 24 hours, has food, and I believe even rooms to rent upstairs.

The Tropicana surprises me this trip. Usually the casinos give you a voucher for your bus bonus and make you go into the casino to cash it. Some even demand you sign up for a club card in order to cash it. Unbelievably, this time, as passengers got off the bus, the Tropicana representative gave each of us a twenty dollar bill from a huge stack of them which she had in her hand.

I walk along Atlantic to Caesars. It’s freezing cold and windy. Not wanting to arrive at Caesars too early, I head for Defeo’s Café, which is basically across the street from Caesars. Only a few customers, and an attractive, dark haired bartenderess on duty. They have no taps here, so I order Bud bottle. The bartenderess, like I guess everyone else, lives out in the suburbs and commutes to work by car. It takes an hour. She’s nice. I have another beer. A guy comes in and sits on the opposite side of the bar. He orders a beer. He then orders a Grey Goose on the rocks, which he quickly consumes. He has another. When he is served his third, he kiddingly tells the bartenderess to stop him when he gets to two. She tells him this is his third. He says, “ ok, tell me when I get to five. “

I ask the bartenderess about job opportunities. A guy at the far corner of the bar works in the industry. He says new owners have just taken over the Taj Mahal, and that might create some openings there. Apparently Trump is selling off his Atlantic City casinos. We talk about Trumps past casino problems. I ask the guy how one can loose money owning three casinos. He says “ bad management. “

It’s lunchtime and the bartenderess tells me that the lunch they serve is very good. She shows me the limited menu. She says they usually get a pretty good crowd for lunch, although they’re late in arriving today. As in New York, many are construction workers. ( They also get a good late-night crowd because this is apparently the only bar in the immediate vicinity that’s open 24 hours. They have a hamburger on the menu and also a Philly Cheese steak. I decide to try the Cheese steak. It’s very good. After I’m finished she asks me how I liked it. I tell her. I tell her I would like to go to Philadelphia to try the original Cheese steak. She says she doesn’t like Philadelphia. It’s still early, but I should go over to Caesars and check in. I say my goodbyes and say I will return for lunch tomorrow.

DeFeo’s CAFÉ. 29 S. MISSOURI AVENUE. ATLANTIC CITY, NJ. 08401

I go to Caesars to check in. For some reason, I am given an “ upgrade, “ and then, because there is some renovations going on, I am given a complementary buffet breakfast for each of the two days I will be here. When I get the room, I check the sign on the back of the door. The “ rack rate” of this room is $500 per night. The room is on a high floor, really nice, and has a big flat screen TV. There’s no real view. The room faces Caesars’ garage and bus depot, and some windmills beyond those. I go downstairs to check out the casino, to see what changes have been made since I’ve last been here.

The large circular bar ( the name escapes me at the moment ) on the casino level at the Pacific Avenue side of the hotel is gone - replaced by a poker room. That bar used to have a lively happy hour. Although I didn’t go up and check, the Forum Lounge seems to be gone to, because I don’t see any mention of it on the hotel’s website. That leaves the Toga Bar the only bar in the hotel. Of course, one can pop over to the Pier at Caesars, where there are several bars.

Before I check out the Toga Bar, I make a tour of the main casino floor. I go over to look at the 25 cent Wheel of Fortune machines carrying a lit cigar. The fact that this is now a No Smoking area is quickly brought to my attention by the staff and patrons alike. I go in search of the Smoking areas of the casino. They have them, and they even have printed cards with the floor plan of the casino showing Smoking and Non Smoking areas. The Smoking areas seem to have mostly $1 slot machines and few 25 cent machines - but, of course, I didn’t count them.

I find a 25 cent machine and sit down. I spy a cocktail waitress and ask her for a bottle of Bud. She asks me which type of slot card ( Total Rewards card. ) I have. I am taken aback, never having been asked this question before. I tell her just the Gold card ( which is the lowest level card.) She informs me that with this card she cannot give me a bottle of beer, only a draft. I am astounded, especially just having come from Las Vegas. I tell her the draft is fine, and say that I read that casinos are cutting back on comps. I tell her I read that Steve Wynn in not giving free drinks to video poker players at the Wynn in Las Vegas. Now she’s surprised. When it comes, the beer is in a plastic cup the size of a thimble.

I decide to check out the Toga Bar, just a few feet away. The cigar-shaped ( long and oval ) bar juts out from a spot near the wall into the casino. Between the wall and the bar are some chairs and cocktail tables. On the wall are some flat screen TVs showing sports. I take up a seat mid-bar facing the boardwalk side of the hotel. I order a pint of Bud. There are no video poker machines in the bar top. There’s a cigar and cigarette kiosk nearby, making the Toga Bar the casino’s smokers central.

A cute young woman comes over to the practically empty bar and asks if she can sit next to me. Hell yes! She is very young. She’s well dressed and is carrying a small shopping bag. She only orders water and the bartender doesn’t ask her for ID. She’s young - and she’s wacky. She won’t give a serious answer to any question, and only makes strange and bizarre statements. She does, however, admire my cuff links. She gives me five singles in exchange for a 5 dollar bill, which she says she needs to play the slot machines. She soon wanders off into the casino leaving me dazed and confused.

A new bartender comes around my side of the bar. I tell him I was surprised to see that there were no video poker machines in the bar top. I ask him if he knows where there are any video poker bars. He suggests Jezeble’s in the Trump Plaza. When I leave I remember that the bar at Bally’s Wild Wild West had video poker. On the way back to the room I detour through the second floor passage way which leads into the Wild Wild West casino. I walk to the bar and ask one of the two bartenders in the virtually bar if I can drink for free if I play video poker. The answer is no. I go back to the room for a nap.

CAESARS ATLANTIC CITY. 2100 PACIFIC AVENUE. ATLANTIC CITY, NJ. 08401

At night, I go over to Trump Plaza to see what the story is at Jeseble’s. I get there and ask the bartender if I can drink for free if I play. He says yes. I say no wonder the bar is so popular. There’s only one empty stool, and it’s a good one in that it’s the end seat on the left side of the bar, away from most of the room’s traffic. I get a Bottle of Bud and the bartender brings me a beautiful large beer glass which I don’t use. The video poker machine at this seat appears to be in
need of maintenance. One or more of the commands don’t respond when switching between games.

The seat next to me opens up and is quickly filled by a guy who is apparently a regular. He’s a friendly guy and asks me how I’m doing. I tell him that I don’t know anything about the game, but that I just bought Bob Dancer’s book, and that I hope to learn something. He hasn’t heard of Bob Dancer, but says he might check it out. He obviously knows a lot more that me about the game and gives me some pointers. He says he’s not playing seriously tonight. He’s just playing one credit, “ just fooling around. “

A guy comes in and takes a seat at the middle of the bar. He engages the bartender in conversation. He talks kind of loud, and even though we’re in the middle of the casino, everyone can hear him. He’s apparently some sort of painter or contractor. He’s proud of his skill and says he can make an estimate on any size job and do the job as well as any big contracting firm. All of this is ok, but unfortunately he soon goes off on a tangent and starts talking loudly about Iraq! The bartender quiets the man down, and he leaves without incident.

I have become aware of another problem with this machine. The games have a 10-coin maximum bet as opposed to the usual 5-coin max, that is, in order to win the biggest prize, one has to bet 10 coins at a time. I discuss this with the bartender and he says there are 5-coin max machines on the opposite end of the bar. They’re ( of course ) occupied. It’s too late to change now, anyway, so I tell the bartender I’ll be back tomorrow to try to get one of the 5-coin machines.

JEZEBLE’S. CASINO FLOOR. TRUMP PLAZA. BOARDWALK @ MISSISSIPPI. ATLANTIC CITY, NJ. 08401

LUNCH: Cheese steak

TUESDAY

42 degrees and raining. Wake up early and get the newspapers. I’ve got time to kill before my complementary buffet breakfast. I return to Defeo’s Café It’s empty except for the bartender who is playing pool. I again inquire about my missing bartenderess. He’s been here about a year and says she hasn’t worked here in that time. Has it been that long since I was here? We talk about the weather. It’s been raining a lot here, causing flooding in some parts of South Jersey. We also talk about the no smoking policy here in Atlantic City, and the ever-increasing smoking restrictions around the country.

We’re joined by a couple. I recognize them from the Toga bar yesterday. The guy says that they came here because the Toga bar isn’t open yet. The woman says that she had gotten up very early and had been playing poker with a bunch of guys over at Caesars before meeting up with her friend. I leave for the buffet, thinking I will return to Defeo’s for lunch.

The buffet is called La Piazza, and it’s on the third floor restaurant level. The regular price is $14.99. The staff is friendly and the buffet is great. They have all the usual stuff you’d expect for breakfast, and all very good. They’ve got juice, fruit, a big ham you can carve yourself, two types of sausage, and lots of bacon. There are scrambled eggs in serving trays, but if you want, there is also a station where a cook will prepare eggs for you to order.

Because it’s a buffet ( and free at that, ) I pig out. I have scrambled eggs with bacon AND sausage ( the Jimmy Dean type breakfast sausage, ) and home fries. Even the coffee ( black ) is good. Not being used to such a big breakfast, I take my time and look at the paper. The Washington Post has won six Pulitzer prizes. I decide to have a second breakfast. This time I skip the potatoes, but try the different, larger sausages ( and bacon, of course. ) I don’t know what kind of sausages the larger ones are. They aren’t bad, but I like the smaller ones better. I have a second cup of coffee. I finish off with a third cup of coffee and a slice of cherry Danish cut from a long loaf.

I decide to try to walk off my breakfast. And go to the Pier at Caesars. It’s accessed directly from the second floor, without having to go outside. Walking along the enclosed overpass over the boardwalk, I am stopped by a buy dressed like a state trouper. He says the Pier isn’t open until 11am. I go back to my room, drop the papers and get my coat. I decide to go over the the bus depot and check on the bus to Brigantine. It’s nasty out. A little drizzle and strong winds. It’s cold. The bus schedule refers to the destination as “ Brigantine Beach. “ The round trip is $3.80. It’s too nasty to go there today. I think of taking a nap, but I don’t want to completely waste the day.

I decide to visit at least one place on my hit list today. I decide on Tony’s Baltimore Grill. This is about as far as I think I can make it today. The rain has stopped but it’s very windy. The humidity makes my cigar soft. I walk south on Atlantic Avenue. I pass an area with a bunch of Spanish stores. Tony’s is on the corner. When I try to cross the street to it, I’m almost blown off my feet. Tony obviously knows about the wind, because there is a plastic outer door protecting the main door of the restaurant.

You enter into the barroom, with a kind of squished horseshoe bar on the left and booths on the right. The dinning room is a separate room on the right accessed through the back of the barroom passed the kitchen with an open take-out window and display counter. I take a seat up front. The old style appearance comes mostly from the wood paneling in both rooms. I order a pint of bud. There are only two other bar customers when I come in, and one of them shortly leaves. I am surprised to see four large casino-style camera bubbles in the ceiling.

The TV in the front of the room is showing Fox News coverage of the Petraeus Hearings on Iraq. A guy comes in and order a short beer. This is something you almost never see anymore. It’ must be something like four or six ounces of beer and the size must depend on the place serving it. I can’t see the price the man is charged. The place is getting ready for lunch. A waitress outs out napkins and utensils on the booths in the barroom and other waitresses do the same in the dining room. Two cooks are working in the kitchen. A sign by the door says the kitchen is open from 11am until 3am, and that the bar is open 24 hours. People begin arriving for lunch. I stay for only one beer. I walk back to Caesars via Pacific Avenue. It hasn’t gotten any warmer, or less windy, even though as I walk bundled up against the cold, I see a guy dressed in a tee shirt, shorts, and slippers, calmly walk across the street to hand some other guy a cell phone, and calmly walk back again.

TONY’S BALTIMORE GRILL. 2800 ATLANTIC AVENUE. ATLANTIC CITY, NJ. 08401.WWW.BALTIMOREGRILL.COM

As I approach Caesars I see a Jitney with a sign on the side by the door. Saying “ Save the Jitney. “ Apparently the Jitney drivers see a free shuttle bus service run by Harrah’s as a threat to the legendary Jitney. I decide to go to see the Pier which I didn’t get to see before. Even on this overcast day, it’s nice and bright. All along the South-facing side of the Pier as you enter, there are white wooden benches and chairs set in sand where taped-out gamblers ( and shoppers ) can sit and watch the ocean. Too bad cigar smoking is not permitted. The pier is huge, three ( four? ) floors, lots of bars, shops and restaurants. When you get to the far end there are doors leading to outside areas on the various levels. Too cold to hang out there today.

I return from my walk and decide to take a nap. I turn on the TV and flip through the channels. It’s just 1:00 and the Mets v Phillies game is on Comcast Sportsnet. Obviously I’ve missed lunch at Defeo’s. I watch the Mets loose. I take a nap.

When I wake up, I decide to go back to the Plaza to see if there’s a 5-coin maximum machine open. I go to the second floor of Caesars and proceed to the southmost corner of the second floor on the boardwalk side of the hotel. There’s an elevator here that goes down to the boardwalk level by the 25cent Wheel of Fortune machines and the glass doors leading out to the boardwalk. The plaza is just next door, so I don’t need my coat.

The same bartender is on duty, and he remembers me from last night. Naturally, the 5-coin max machines on the right side of the bar are taken, and the first seat on the left side of the bar, the one I occupied last night is available. In fact, it’s the only empty seat at the bar .Obviously nobody wants to sit here, even though it’s an end seat. It must be jinxed. I put my card and money in, and almost immediately one of the seats on the other side of the bar opens up. I ask an attractive woman sitting next to me if she would watch my seat for me and she says yes. She puts a pack of cigarettes on my chair. Her accent sounds southern. I take my beer and go to the seat at the other side of the bar. I tell the bartender I’m going to move over here and put my bottle down and save the machine via the universal sign of placing a cocktail napkin over the screen. I return to my first seat to retrieve my money and slot card and to thank the woman for saving my place.

I am not really doing any better with this machine, but I’m happy with my 5-coin max verses the rip-off 10-coin max machine. A small group of codgers to my right are eating out of styrofoam containers they got somewhere and are drinking cocktails in tall glasses that look live vanilla milk shakes. After they finish eating, one of them decides to play. He’s now drinking something on the rocks. He’s having trouble with the machine and asks me, not knowing that I know virtually nothing about this stuff. I do, however, manager to show him how to get the game started. He plays Jokers Wild. I hear the bartender say goodnight to the guy sitting to the right of me. I look up, and suddenly the bartender is gone. His replacement is the same replacement bartender from last night. A woman to the left of me is drinking, but not playing. She asks me how I’m doing. I tell her my credits are rapidly diminishing. She has a house in Monticello. I’m trying to remember if they have horse racing there or something. I ask her if they have any casinos around there. She doesn’t know.

I get a fresh beer from the new bartender and re-buy into the machine. Like the first bartender, he’s friendly and talkative. I tell him I remember when Jezebel’s was laid out much differently. There was a bar in front of the stage where you could drink and watch the show from just a few feet away. He says he was working here then, when it was the “ original “ Jezebels. He says they actually had headline acts here back then. I tell him I was only here in the daytime for the no-name acts.

The old codger to the right of me has to leave to catch his bus. His friends have already left. We wish each other good luck. He tells me he hopes I win half as much as he did this trip. I hope he won a lot. I’m out of credits and decide not to re-buy. The woman at the other end of the bar who held my seat for me is gone. I go back to Caesars to deposit the remainder of my budget into one of the Wheel of Fortune machines. I do so and manage to get another thimble of beer. I’m still drinking the mini-beer as I head for my room. Back in my fantastically comfortable bed, I plan my return to New York. My bartenderess has disappeared. There is no reason to prolong my stay. I decide to take the 6:30am bus. I request a wake-up call.

I get the call and go downstairs and check out. stop in at Defeo’s for a quick one for the road. There’s one customer in the place. They talk about how one can make money in the junk business. I have one beer and say goodbye to the bartender. I tell him I’ll be back next month. He says he hopes the weather is better then. I go across the street and catch the bus. There are ten or so people on line. One of them is a pretty girl in a pink and white Go-Go outfit, complete with white Go-Go boots and white bag. She looks like she just stepped out of a magazine. The clothes are pristine. They look like she bought them five minutes ago. Two guys standing in front of me are oogling her. I join them. The bus leaves on time. It’s already light out as we drive pass The Walk and head home.

VOL. 3, NO. 3 - LAS VEGAS 2008

2008-04-22T09:22:00.000-07:00

THE LUSH LIFE by DONATO

SUNDAY

I’m walking thru the Jet Blue Terminal @ JFK. I remember exactly where the New York Sports Bar is. I approach it. The white gates are up and locked. I am not worried. It’s not yet 8:00 am. I take a seat and wait. Just then I realize that it’s Sunday! It’s not going to open! Just then a miracle happens. An attractive woman in a sexy black outfit comes down the hall, unlocks the gate, and sneaks inside. She comes out a short while later. She waves her arm, causing an Airport houseman to appear. The gates magically part, then disappear all together. The bar opens precisely @ 8:00 am. On a Sunday!

I am the first there, but others join me shortly. Unfortunately, I have only 55 minutes until my flight leaves. Since many people are usually in this position, after you order your drink, they ask you if you want a double. Many ( most? ) myself included, do. While I am enjoying my drink, a man rushes up to the bar and asks the bartenderess to turn down the music because he can’t hear the flight announcements that have been blasting from every nook and cranny in the terminal at ear-splitting volume.

Cut to just after noon, - Las Vegas time. I am heading for the Prickly Pear. After the flight I am ready for one of their beer-and-shot specials. Unfortunately the place is completely packed. The dining area is fully booked and the seats at the rather small bar are all taken., as well as the seats around the high cocktail tables in front. There are even a bunch of college types standing up drinking beers at the open front of the café, where restaurant meets airport. I’ll try again on the way back.

I arrive at the Golden Nugget. I arrive at what is the side entrance, but which I will come to think of as the rear entrance. The main entrance with a circular drive and doormen, etc is on the other side of the building. This one is good for me, however , because the South Tower, where I will be staying is just down the hall, and it has it’s own check-in desk. The room is nice. It has the same view of every room I’ve stayed in in Las Vegas and Atlantic City. That is, it faces - if not exactly where the garbage is picked up - at least the “rear.” Actually the view is not so bad. Looking out the window, one sees First Street, beyond that the Golden Nugget garage, next the defunct Nevada Casino, then comes Main Street, then the Plaza Hotel and Casino garage. After that come the railroad tracks, and beyond those, way off in the distance are the mountains. I believe I am facing North by Northwest.

GOLDEN NUGGET HOTEL ( and CASINO. ) 129 E. FREMONT ST. LAS VEGAS, NV. 89101

First thing I want to check out is Gold Diggers. It’s a bar/lounge on the second floor of the hotel over the Fremont and First Street entrance. To get to it from where I am, I have to tour the entire main floor of the hotel. The hotel is beautiful - and classy. It’s like a Strip hotel ( though not as big ) only Downtown. It’s got to be the nicest casino hotel Downtown. First I pass what I now consider to be “ my “ entrance, then take a hallway with a glass wall that sweeps around the pool area. The pool is beautiful. It’s got a water slide, a walk-up bar, and a great big shark tank. Next comes the hotel’s Italian restaurant and then the casino. The casino is well-laid out and has at least three bars. I take as sharp left and eventually reach the stairs to Gold Diggers.

The place is real fancy. The long bar in the main room is not open yet, but there’s an open air patio that faces onto Fremont Street. The square bar in the middle of the patio is open. There’s a beautiful woman behind the bar in kind of a skimpy outfit. The only customers is a couple sitting at the bar. I approach and realize immediately that it’s freezing cold, with a wind blowing over the patio. The bartenderess says she’s warm because she’s standing under a large heater hanging directly over her from the ceiling. There are also upright heaters placed around the patio.

I sit on the same side of the bar as the couple. I zip up my windbreaker and know I won’t be staying long. I order a pint of Coors Light in a plastic cup. It’s $4.00. I ask the beautiful bartenderess her name. She tells me, and I forget it immediately. I begin to worry about short term memory loss. The couple is from Canada. I complain about the length of my flight. Turns out they flew in from Buffalo. The come here three times a year, but wouldn’t consider moving here because of the good benefits provided by the Canadian Government. I have been holding an unlit cigar in my hand as we talk. The wife asks me if I’m going to light it. I think she’s going to object. I say yes, but not now. She surprises me by saying that it’s too bad, because she actually likes the smell of cigar smoke, and further more, she actually has smoked cigars herself.

We talk about cigars. The couple has actually visited Cuba. I jokingly ask if it was before or after the revolution. They say as Canadians, they can visit Cuba openly. We discuss various subterfuges we’ve heard used by Americans to visit Cuba clandestinely. And Cuban cigars? The husband says that 10 years ago you could buy a box of genuine Cuban cigars - in Cuba - for $20.00. We also discuss the counterfeit cigars we’ve heard of being sold in Cuba as the real thing. We discuss the weather. The Canadian couple has been experiencing very harsh winters this year, with day after day of snow. I tell them New York has been pretty mild.

I’m still freezing. A hotel employee has come to the patio to see if the various upright heaters are actually working. The beautiful bartenderess asks me if I would like another beer. I would and I want to stay, but I tell her I can’t. I can’t tell her it’s because I’m a sissy and it’s too chilly for me. I think she becomes angry with me because I’m not staying. Regretfully I say my goodbys and leave to explore some of Downtown and find another beer.

I go downstairs and out the nearest Fremont St. exit. East or West? I decide to go East. I walk to the Boulevard and cross it. I come across the Beauty Bar. It’s closed. I keep walking. The area looks different then when I last saw it. I thought there were more neighborhood shops here. The area - Fremont Street East is going through a re-development, which the powers that be are encouraging. A paper reports that liquor license fees are being discounted for anyone opening a new bar in this area. I pass the El Cortez.

GOLD DIGGERS. At The GOLDEN NUGGET HOTEL And CASINO. 129 E. FREMONT ST. LAS VEGAS, NV. 89101, SECOND FLOOR.

Up ahead I see the distinctive sign of Atomic Liquors. I reach this combination package store/bar and admire the sign before going in. There’s a glass front with a glass door. You have to press a small button next to the door, then push the door to get in. The main area as you enter looks like a rec room. It’s a good size empty space with a bar against the back wall. To the left the bar makes a right turn into a smaller space with looks more like an actual bar. There’s even a jukebox there. Rather than being a place to store the ingredients for the customers individual drinks, the back of the bar is actually a display case for the “ package “ part of the operation. Various bottles of liquor for sale to go sit on shelves with prices clearly marked. I stand at the bar. The bartender asks me what I want. Hollywood could not have cast a better type to be working in this place.

There are six or seven people in the bar. I look to see what they’re drinking. Most are drinking cans of Busch Beer. This is the beer I drank in Florida. I drank it for two reasons. I liked the design of the can, and it was cheap. The 12 ounce can of Busch is $1.00! I notice that there are actually plastic stand-up signs on the bar advertising this. I take a look around the bar. The Busch brand seems to be the speciality “ de la mason. “ There are various banners around the “ rec room “ advertising Busch beer. A Busch 12 ounce 12 pack is $6.00 to go. Twenty-four ounce Busch cans are $1.50 to go. Prices include tax. I’m at the right side of the bar. There are two interesting young women in the middle, and a mixed group on the left. I keep to myself, however. I remember some advice I was given by a woman I met on my first trip to Las Vegas. “ No matter what you do, NEVER go off the strip. “

I have another beer and order some of the big cans to go. The two women leave. The bartender surprises me by playing Otis Redding on the jukebox. A customer says goodbye to the bartender and says that he might see him later. The bartender says he’ll be here until 11. He then says, “ And you know where I’ll be one minute after 11. “

ATOMIC LIQUORS. 917 FREMONT ST. LAS VEGAS. NV. 89101-5401

I’m going to make it an early night. I’m going to go to the coffee shop in Binion’s because it’s supposed to be pretty good AND inexpensive. It’s actually called Binion’s Original Coffee Shop. It’s downstairs from the casino level and accessed via stairs or elevator at the rear of the right side of the building. It’s got a Victorian decor, kind of similar to Bill’s Gambling Hall & Saloon, which used to be the Barbary Coast. In fact, the coffee shop at Bill’s is called the Victorian Room. There’s good friendly service. I ask for a beer. It turns out that for some reason, the coffee shop does not have a bar or service bar of its own. However, you can have your waiter go upstairs to the casino level bar and get whatever you want. I do not make such a request, and have water instead. The burger is excellent and comes with french fries, lettuce and tomato and a pickle slice! Time to call it a night.

DINNER: Binion’s Burger

MONDAY

ROAD TRIP. Start out at one of the two Starbucks in the Golden Nugget. The medium size is something like $3.17. I have 8 cents in change and the cashier lets me slide for the rest. Today I am taking a bus trip to Laughlin, Nevada. Laughlin is a resort destination about 90 miles south of Las Vegas, and situated on the Nevada side of the Colorado River. It has 10 or so casino hotels. I am to be picked up at the First St. Entrance of the hotel at 8:30am. The bus is exactly on time. However, the trip does not begin here. First, this bus has to pick up other tour passengers at other area hotels and then rendezvous at the tour depot with other buses picking up other passengers at various Strip hotels. We don’t actually leave for Laughlin until 10:00am.

Darien ( from New Orleans ) is our driver. He is not only a professional and competent driver, but he is also an excellent raconteur. As we look out the windows, provides an informative and humourous narration of the wonders of Southeast Nevada. This lasts for most of the hour and a half trip. He tells us about the flora and the fauna. He tells us about the Joshua Tree. How it is protected, and how it only thrives at certain altitudes. He tells us about snakes. We also see a mirage caused by a field of solar panels. I remember the Joshua Tree from “ Earth vs. The Flying Saucers. “ Or was it ,“ It Came from Outer Space? “ We pass abandoned silver mines and an extremely interesting place called Searchlight, NV. It’s a blink-and-you-passed-it town, with a history. It’s a strange little place with a Terrible’s gas station - slash - casino. Darien says that at only time it was thought that this would become another Las Vegas, or Laughlin.

Laughlin is just as windy and cold as Las Vegas. We’ve got six hours here, which is basically the same deal as the New York buses to Atlantic city, except that that trip takes over two hours. Darien delivers us to the Edgewater Casino Hotel, kind of in the center of the Laughlin Strip. This is actually an amazing trip. Bus tour, six hours to sightsee, and now we are given a voucher for the lunch buffet at the Edgewater, ( a $4.99 value, ) and a special slot card ( for tour members only, ) which, if used, may produce a cash prize awarded anytime from 12:30 to 3:30 ( $10 to $500 prize - Must be actively playing at the time to win. )

Ok, so forget the slot prize. The amazing thing is that the whole trip only costs $10.00! Not only that, looking on the internet, it was at one time only $5.00! On the advise of Darien, everyone heads immediately to the lunch buffet with is just opening up. At a price of $4.99 I think it’s amazingly good. They have everything from salad to desert. The basic stuff you’d expect to find, but is all looks fresh. There’s a hand-carved roast beef station, and a BBQ ribs and fried chicken station. The fried chicken - which I didn’t have- looked just like an add for fried chicken on television. In honor of St. Patrick’s day, they served corned beef and cabbage and red potatoes. I had that, with a pint glass of seltzer ( bubbly and refreshing. ). Oh, I forgot the Italian station. They had several pastas including Fettuccine Alfredo, and a bunch of other stuff. Everything looked good there too, so after my Irish lunch, I had a teeny portion of spaghetti with a red sauce and added some meat balls, which were displayed sepretly. One thing about buffets in general, is that if you’re too far from the various stations, and you’re bound to be, you food may not be as hot as you’d like when you finally get back to your table. If I ever take this tour again, I think I’ll allow much more time for this buffet.

EDGEWATER HOTEL & CASINO. 2020 S. CASINO DRIVE. LAUGHLIN, N.V. 89029.WWW.EDGEWATER-CASINO.COM.

LUNCH: Edgewater Hotel Grand Buffet

I leave and take a walk on the Riverwalk. I first go South. The map says there are five more casinos south of the Edgewater, but I never get to them. I make it to the Colorado Belle, which is next to the Edgewater, but once through that casino, I find my way blocked. Not seeing anyone around to ask, and too lazy to go back into the Colorado Belle, I go back and head north. Past the Edgewater I come across a small, two-story building. It claims to be a casino. There’s a recording playing onto the Riverwalk advertising some free play or free spin. There’s a door on the right side.

I continue walking to see what other casinos are up this way. I walk to the large and fancy Aquarius Casino Hotel, which apparently used to be the Flamingo Hilton. Having seen enough, I turn around. I arrive back at the two story building. I open the door to find a flight of stairs leading to a small landing and then another flight. I climb. The stairs lead to a Hawaiian-themed mom-and-pop operation called Regency Casino. The place seems to have most things the big casino’s have. Slot machines, cashier’s cages, a restaurant featuring prime rib, rest rooms, a stage for live entertainment, and a bar with video poker. Their logo features a cow. I sit down at the bar. There’s a well-dressed couple at the right end of the bar playing the machines. They seem to be winning. I order a pint of Bud Light. It’s $2.25. I ask the bartenderess where the closest residential area is. She says it’s 4 miles away by car.

She also tells me that some residents choose to commute from across the river, either by bridge or by boat. Of course, if you do this you would be a resident of Arizona and give up the Nevada tax advantages. I have a lot of time before I have to get back to the bus, so I order another beer. Another bartenderess joins the first. Their both civil, but not really friendly or nice to me - even after I compliment the first one on the Aloha shirt she’s wearing with a beer bottle. I tell her I have a similar one, but mine’s not as nice as her’s. It turns out it’s the bartenders uniform! After three beers I leave.

REGENCY CASINO. 1950 S. CASINO DR. LAUGHLIN. NV. 89029

I leave through what is actually the front door of the casino, the one that faces the road, rather than the Riverwalk. The weather has turned, I come out into the bright sun and It’s hot. I can finally take off my jacket for the first time since I arrived in Las Vegas. I walk to the main road and back. I go back to the Riverwalk, but tire of it, so I go back to the Edgewater. I have almost two hours to kill. I didn’t plan to put any money in the machines here, but there’s the Riverview Bar in the Edgewater where you can drink, play video poker, and look at the river. Just like in Las Vegas, drinks are free to players. Unlike Vegas, here one has to commit to wager at least $10.00. I find this out here and at the Regency, where they actually had a sign posted informing one of this policy. I decide to wager the $10.00. Initially I order a Bud draft from a bartender who soon leaves. When I re-order, his replacement offers me bottled Bud instead. I switch to that. I ask him which he thinks is better, bottle or draft ( the age-old question. ) He has no opinion. He tells me that they used to serve beer in cans, but no longer do. I tell him that there’s a bar in Las Vegas that sells cans of Busch for one dollar. He says they should give it to you for free.

A couple sits down next to me. They’re from New Mexico. The drive here. They say the drive takes longer than my flight. They come here quite often to play golf and gamble. They say the Edgewater is quite generous with comps. I’m losing as usual at Bonus Poker, and now I’m watching the clock. I say goodbye to the couple and leave, knowing that if I miss the bus I’m trapped here forever. The rest of the tour must have thought the same thing, because even though I get to the bus 15 minutes early, everyone is already on board! I stand around with the bus driver finishing my cigar before getting on.

RIVERVIEW BAR. EDGEWATER HOTEL & CASINO. 2020 S. CASINO DRIVE. LAUGHLIN, N.V. 89029

The trip back goes quickly. Darien continues playing the Bill Cosby tape he put on towards the end of the trip down. After that he says we’re going to listen to music. He says he’s going to play rap music. Everyone groans. He plays country; Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, etc.

On the return trip, instead of returning to the depot and having other buses pick everyone up from there and take them to their hotels - the reverse of what we did on the way down - Darien will drop off everyone at their hotels. Or actually, more or less anywhere they want. This turns out to be an added bonus, because when we were picked up this morning, we go a tour of the back roads of downtown Las Vegas, and now, since many people want to get off at some of the famous Strip hotels, we are treated to a nigh time tour of virtually the entire length of the Strip, all the way to Downtown - at no extra charge.

Showtime Tours Laughlin Tour From Las Vegas - 800-704-7011

I arrive back at the Golden Nugget and decide to take in the light show, that is, the Fremont Street Experience. Seems them banned traffic from Fremont St. some years ago and erected a huge canopy over it, on which is projected a light show with lots of noise and music. I like the idea of making the stretch of Fremont St. from the Boulevard to Main Street a mall, but I’m not really fond of the canopy. The light show isn’t that impressive and the canopy itself with its many large support pillars and hanging speakers obscures some of the neon signs and other features of the casinos.

The show isn’t on just now, so I decide to take a walk. I check out some of the old neon signs that have been restored, lit and displayed around Fremont St. I walk to the Boulevard. Naturally, on St. Patrick’s day, Hennessey’s Tavern, which dominates the intersection of Fremont St. And the boulevard, is jumping, with an overflow crowd. I cross the Street. The Beauty Bar is open. There are posters advertising the bar’s St. Patrick’s day celebration. The posters say beers are two dollars. There’s a doorman. I ask him if the beers are really two dollars. He says yes. But - there’s a ten dollar cover charge! I tell him there isn’t any cover charge in New York. ( Of course, I don’t really know this, since I’m talking about a hundred years ago when I actually went there, ) He says that the bar has been leased out for the event. I go over and walk in one door of the El Cortez and out the other. I double back along Fremont St. I look at some more neon signs.

I go over to the next street North of Fremont and come upon a block with three bars, including Hogs & Heifers. There are three bars on this quiet block. Everything is normal at Hogs & Heifers. Good crowd, women dancing on the bar. Another place has one or two people in it and a third seems to be open, but is completely deserted. I don’t even see a bartender. I stand in the middle of the street. There is no traffic. I decide to walk over to the California Club to see if they have an exclusively Hawaiian clientele. Yep!

Next stop is the Plaza, to see The Dome - the hotel’s sports bar. It’s on the second floor and has a view of Fremont St. I want to check out. The place is strangely quiet. It’s a fairly large space with the street-facing “ dome “ directly in front of you and a bar against the opposite wall to the left. The bar area is brightly lit. There are only a few people at the bar. The round area in front of the windows is dark so as to provide a better view of brightly lit Fremont St. There is lounge seating here, but no customers, only a couple standing at the windows admiring the view. I do likewise. There’s no incentive to stay, so I leave.

I re-trace my steps back to Fremont St. I see as sign on the Vegas Club ( otherwise known as the Las Vegas Club ) advertising $2.00 bottles of Corona. I go in. This place is small, but pretty nice, and seems to draw a nice crowd. The bar, off to the right, is officially known and the Main Bar, although it appears to be the only bar. Actually, though it’s more like the Corona Bar, decorated with Parrots and Corona logos.

The bottles of Corona are $2.00. Of course, if you play video poker, they’re free. Playing verses paying seems to be about half and half. There are also people who come up to the bar to order then leave, and seats turn over pretty quickly. I am sitting towards the left side, or rear, of the bar. A beautiful blond comes dashing in and sits down one stool away from me. I immediately see that she is visiting the incredibly handsome bartender working this end of the bar. ( Needless to say, he’s also young. ) I do get to talk with her, however. She works across Fremont St. In another casino. She doesn’t stay long and don’t get a chance to ask her to marry me. There are a lot of young people here. They seem to have come in groups. It’s been a long day, I don’t play, I just have a couple of Corona’s and leave.

VEGAS CLUB7 NINTH AVENUE. NEW YORK. NY. 10036

TUESDAY

I get a Starbucks and walk through the lobby. Something is different about today. There are people in the pool area sunbathing! I go out the back of the hotel, to where my room faces into the bright sunshine. I see the Nevada Casino, now out of business, and a large sign on the Golden Gate Casino promoting retro Las Vegas. I’m wearing my fleece-lined windbreaker and wool baseball cap with the suede brim. I begin to sweat. It’s Hot! Just like Las Vegas is supposed to be! It’s a beautiful sunny day, the complete opposite of yesterday, when I was cursing the Las Vegas wind. I go back to my room and get rid of my jacket.

My plan is to walk south to the Stratosphere to the area I saw on the bus yesterday. However, I have a back-up plan. If I happen to stumble across the elusive Arts District, I will explore that. I start to walk down Fourth Street, but it’s very boring, an area of government and other offices. I head over to the boulevard where I know will be more interesting. It’s a beautiful day and I’m glad I’m out walking and not sitting in the pool area of the hotel, which is beautiful, but not that big. I would think it will become packed on a day like this.

It’s time for a short break. I spot the FLORIDA CAFÉ. It fronts on the Strip, but one enters through the motel which it’s in. Sign says it serves breakfast, lunch and dinner, so it must be open. I walk in holding my cigar. A manager approaches me. I ask if the bar is open. He says yes. He notices my cigar and apologizes for the fact that smoking is not permitted. I leave my stuff at the bar and dash out to extinguish my cigar. I come back in reaching for a tissue to wrap my cigar stub in. This guy is incredible. He comes over with a large paper dinner napkin and gives it to me to put my stub in! I have a Bud bottle ( $5.00. ) A woman comes behind the bar. I tell her I hear bird noises. She says there are birds over in the corner of the room. She points in their direction. “ Live birds? “ I ask stupidly. I walk over, and sure enough, in an alcove hidden from sight are two small parrots in a nice, large cage. I consult my maps and research material I got off the internet. I see I am just a few blocks from the southernmost border of the Arts District. I head out and continue to walk south.

FLORIDA CAFÉ. 1401 LAS VEGAS BOULEVARD SOUTH. LAS VEGAS, NV. 891014.WWW.FLORIDACFECUBAN.COM

I come across another place we passed on the tour bus yesterday. It’s Dino’s - The Last Neighborhood Bar in Las Vegas. I can’t pass this up. I go in. It’s dark and cosy. A bar on the right continues to an L-shape along the back wall. An area to the left has some chairs and tables and a small stage. There’s a wheelchair in the middle of the chairs and tables. Beyond this is a pool table. There are two guys playing video poker right at the front of the bar and two other customers back around the middle of the bar, I take up a position between them. The bartenderess is making popcorn. I order a bottle of Bud. Since I’m not playing it’s $2.25 - or possible $2.50.

One of the two guys by the door - obviously a regular - tells a story about some guy playing 1 cent video blackjack and complaining that he’s not winning. Not only that, after he quits playing he asks for a free beer to compensate for his bad luck. After a bathroom break, I leave.

DINO’S. The Last Neighborhood Bar in Las Vegas. 1401 LAS VEGAS BOULEVARD SOUTH. LAS VEGAS, NV. 891014.WWW.DINOSLV.COM.

I walk to Wyoming Avenue and turn West and believe I am in the Arts District. I walk a block and see a couple with a small child. They seem to be waiting for a bus. It’s hard to believe that there’s bus service on this deserted industrial area. I walk to Main Street and turn North. Almost immediately I come upon the Art Bar. Unfortunately, it’s closed, but it’s presence means that like Lewis & Clark, I found what I was seeking. There are three young women hanging around on the sidewalk by the bar - perhaps also waiting for that same, elusive bus. I walk north past auto-related businesses and bail bond offices.

I see another landmark. The Gambler’s General Store. Without going into detail, let’s just say that they have EVERYTHING. A wall of books wraps around the left and rear of the store. Somehow I don’t see video poker. I ask. The people there are extremely helpful. A guy come out and shows me that there are additional books on free-standing shelves. I’m looking for Bob Dancer. They have his Million Dollar Video Poker and a bunch of more specific manuals by him dealing with the many variations of the game. I choose Million Dollar. When I buy it I get a souvenir chip with the name of the store on it.

I next come across the ICE HOUSE LOUNGE. It’s a beautiful, free-standing building. Inside, it’s just as impressive. It’s a large square area with an L-turn in the rear. There’s a large square bar in the center of the room. With tables to the right and in the rear where they serve food. A professional-looking stage is in the right rear corner.

I order a pint of Bud. It’s $3.25. It’s served by yet another beautiful blond ( and young ) bartenderess. She’s wearing a push-up bra under a revealing black top. She had been playing video poker on one of the bar-top machines when I came in. She asks me it I will be playing. I show her the book I just bought and tell her I’ll have to read the book first, because so far I’ve only lost at the game. The bartenderess, a waitress who I ask about the entertainment they offer, and a guy who I take to be the manager are all very nice. I tell the bartenderess that this is a great building. She says it was an actual ice house “ for the railroad. “

ICE HOUSE LOUNGE. 650 SOUTH MAIN STREET. LAS VEGAS, NV. 89101. WWW.ICEHOUSELOUNGE.COM

I reluctantly leave after two beers. As I head North, I see the railroad tracks to my left, the same ones I can see from my hotel window. I am soon back at the Golden Nugget. I am thinking of visiting the patio at Gold Diggers, but I decide to take a nap instead. When I wake up, I decide to go back to sleep. I’m thinking Howard Hughes may not have been so crazy after all. Just stay in bed in a comfortable hotel room for ever and ever. But, I wake up again, and decide to go out. I first stop at Gold Diggers. The patio is open, but only the long main bar is open, the patio bar is closed. Also, all the seats by the rail overlooking Fremont are taken. I leave without ordering anything.

I’m off to get a beer before trying the late night breakfast special at Binion’s. I return to the Vegas Club for more $2 Coronas. It’s pretty busy and there’s not much choice of seats. I take up a position at the opposite side of the bar I was at last night. I become upset at my seating choice, because, sure enough, the beautiful blond who works across the street, and who I had spoken to last night, comes rushing it. She sees me and I wave to her. Naturally she heads straight to the other end of the bar where, once again, he young and handsome bartender is working.

But...Lightning strikes! ANOTHER beautiful blond comes in! She walks the length of the bar away from me looking for a seat. She turns around and it appears that she is looking directly at me! Of course, the seat to my right, the last seat at this end of the bar, next to the service station, is empty. Perhaps she is only looking at that. She retraces her steps and comes and sits down next to me. Why do I think all the women I see are beautiful? She is smoking. I wave my cigar smoke away from her. She asks me if her smoke bothers me. I say no but I think the bartender gave me a dirty look because I was smoking a cigar. She makes a remark something to the effect that he always looks that way. She is playing the video poker machine. The machines can be played for as little as a penny. I tell her I lost money playing video poker in Laughlin and make a joke saying I’ll never go there again. She doesn’t like Laughlin - or the people who live there.

I tell her I saw ( from the bus to Laughlin ) a small residential area, right near the boulevard, which I thought would be a convenient place to live. She tells me the area is a “ ghetto “ and warns me to stay away from there. I say it seems to me that most people live in the suburbs. I mention tow of the places I’ve heard of, Henderson and Summerlin. She says she lives out PAST Summerlin. I tell her about New York. She says she’s lived EVERYWHERE, including New York. She starts to leave. I don’t want her to. I try to think of something to say. I ask her if she’s going to do more gambling. She says she’s waiting for a ride home. Then, suddenly, she is gone.
Before she left, however, she game me some advice; “ Don’t trust anybody. “

I finish my beer and leave. The bartender is happy to see me and my cigar go. I go across the street to try to catch a glimpse of beautiful blond number one. I get a string of Mardi Gras beads just by walking into a tiny casino.

I go to Binion’s Coffee Shop and order the Binion’s Big Breakfast. The breakfast is only $3.99, but the coffee is $1.75. Also, the breakfast is not as big if you choose toast, because then you don’t get the pancakes. I wait for my meal. Two young guys at the table in back of me are talking about the “ George Clooney deal. “ They’re dressed like slackers and say “ dude. “ They finish discussing the deal - which is evidently still pending - and stark a long conversation about fine coffee. A Roy Orbison look-alike walks across the dining room.

I leave to check out Gold Diggers again. The patio bar is closed. I get a beer at the main bar and go out on the patio. The light show is on. There aren’t many people this early in the week. Someone left two strands of Mardi Gras beads on the bar. Someone picks up one and I pick up the other. As I do so, yet another beautiful women walks right up to me as I put the beads over my head. I ask the woman what she thinks of the beads on me. Does it make a fashion statement? She takes the sleeve of my blazer in her hand. “ They match your ( gold ) buttons, “ she says.

Suddenly, the house lights are turned on and the bartender at the main bar tells someone that the bar is closed. It’s 12:15 am, or so. At precisely 12:30, a female security guard comes up the stairs and thrown everybody out. A small group of businessmen types can’t believe it. “ But this is Las Vegas, “ one of them says.

DINNER: Binion’s Big Breakfast

WEDNESDAY

I get up early to check out a supposedly residential area near a hotel off the strip. For this I am required to take “ The Duce, “ the bus that travels up and down the length of The Strip. They used to have those snake-like, flexible coach buses, but now they have double deckers. The buses are always full, and the more popular stops look like the last plane out of Saigon, but somehow everyone manages to get on. The bus comes right away to the Fremont St. Stop. The fare is $2.00 one way. The machine in the bus takes bills. For $5.00 you can buy a card from the same machine that you can use all day.

Most people seem to want to stay downstairs, so there are usually seats to be had upstairs. I find one of them. Be careful, though, there’s not much headroom. I don’t find the long trip south too terrible. Coming near my destination I go downstairs and ask the driver if he’s going to stop at a certain cross street. Most of these cross streets are named after casinos that are, or where, located at these intersections. My street isn’t one of them, so I think this is an honest question. I am actually surprised when the driver gives me what I take to be a smart answer. “ I try to, “ he says. Hey, even in New York the bus drivers tell you where they’re stopping. Possibly thinking better of it, the driver then volunteers that “ There’s not much there. “

The buses always being crowded, everyone is encouraged to get off the rear ( side ) door rather than the front door. I get off and walk awhile. There’s a gargantuan construction project raising at this point on the Strip. My walk confirms what I already knew. ( I hate when that happens. ) I go back to the boulevard. This time there’s a REALLY LONG WAIT for the bus. When it comes, it’s the same bus driver! Again, however, the trip seems faster than one might expect, considering the traffic and the number of people getting on and off. We pass another large construction project where the Wynn is expanding.

I get out at Sahara. I turn to look down the avenue. I guy asks me how the numbers run on Sahara. I tell him I don’t know, and don’t think of that fact that since the cross streets are named east and west of the boulevard, the system is probably like New York. I turn back and face the Boulevard again, and a new bus is at the stop, so presumably the buses run more frequently than I thought.

I think about exploring East Sahara, but I do not. Later I think I should have. I have an area to check out between here and East Charleston. First, time for a beer and a bathroom break. I walk up to the Stratosphere. It’s set back from the Boulevard and there’s a large circular driveway before you get to the entrance. As I cross this area I see two women coming towards me, leaving the casino. They’re a salt and pepper team. I pass them and enter the Stratosphere. It looks kind of gloomy today, not bright as I remembered it. There are two lobby bars, but I pass them up. I make a swing around the casino, use the bathroom and leave.

I continue walking North on the Boulevard. I come upon the two women who I saw leaving the Stratosphere. Salt, the taller of the two, says; “ Hey, I saw you at the Stratosphere.” I say, “ Hi, yes you did. I saw you, too. “ Pepper comes up to me and says “ You look very nice today. “ I say; “ Thank you, so do you. “ I don’t say anything further to them as I know that these two will eat me for lunch. They drop back and go off East across the Boulevard.

I continue to Dino’s to have that beer I didn’t have at the Stratosphere. The same bartenderess is on duty today. There’s a guy at the back of the bar playing video poker. He asks to bartenderess to call a particular cab company and a particular driver he apparently always uses. He asks her to find out how long it will be for a pick up. It’s going to be a half hour or so. This is too long, and he cancels the request.

I continue my walk. I get but a few yards and a guy hails me from across the Boulevard. He’s waving and yelling something, but I don’t know what. In a break in the traffic he runs across to me. Turns out he wants money. Something about his car. Since he went to all the trouble I probably should have given him something, but I didn’t. He wasn’t upset by my refusal. I walk through the area east of the Boulevard. A nice, convenient residential area.

I walk up to East Charleston and come across the Fifth Avenue Pub. They advertise $1.75 Bud drafts. I go in. It’s a cozy square room with a three-sided bar against the left wall. Venetian blinds keep out the sun. I sit at the back part of the bar facing the door. The drafts are mugs, not pints, but if you play you can drink for free. I don’t play. There’s a bartenderess on duty. In back of the bar is a “ Bartender on duty “ sign which is changed with the name of the particular bartender who is on duty at the time. I have a few drafts and walk back to Downtown and the Golden Nugget.

I take a short nap. Later I meet up with Peter and Lissette of NEON VENUS. They take me on a tour of the Las Vegas Country Club and I take them on a tour of the Golden Nugget. Later we watch the light show. We have dinner and catch up on old times at Binion’s Coffee Shop. I call it a ( fairly ) early night.

FIFTH AVENUE PUB. 906 S. SIXTH ST. LAS VEGAS, NV.

DINNER: Binion’s Burger ( again. )

THURSDAY

My last full day in Las Vegas. I leave tomorrow and I’ve used only one of my many Golden Nugget drink coupons, so I want to get an early start today. It’s a little overcast, but the weather is mild. One of the two Starbucks in th Golden Nugget has a patio on Fremont St. I have a large black to prepare for today’s excursion. There’s music playing through the Fremont St. sound system. Apparently they feel compelled to do this twenty four hours a day. The early bird tourists, like myself, are up and about. Fortunately the music switches from whatever loud annoying stuff they were playing to fairly quiet jazz.

Today I plan a walking tour of the area just South and East of Fremont St. Naturally I plan by route around two bars in the area which I found on the internet. They are a ways apart and walking to both of them and back should give me a good idea of the area. The address of the first one is on 6th Street, nearer the hotel, but when I get to the street, I see by the numbers that it’s pretty far South, so I head over to 11th Street, the location of the other bar, the BUNKHOUSE SALOON. I didn’t know what to expect of this place. I assumed it would be something on the order of Atomic Liquors, but it’s a big contrast to the minimilistic Atomic.

It’s a rectangular room with a stage off to the immediate right as you enter and a closed-off dining area on the left. In the middle of the room is a pool table surrounded by leather couches. Beyond this is the ever-popular ( in Las Vegas, anyway ) horseshoe bar. The open end of the horseshoe is to the right and opens on to the kitchen. Restrooms are in the rear. The place is decorated with photographs of old time cowboy film stars. Music is provided by a “ new country “ music station broadcasting via Serius Satallite Radio. The bartender is wearing a cowboy hat. There are two TVs on each long side of the bar, and being in this time zone, you can watch the 1pm East Coast baseball game starting at 10am.

I take up a stool midway at the front-facing part of the bar. There’s an old codger sitting at the closed end of the horseshoe. He has a beard and is wearing a baseball cap. I am frightened to think that I might be looking at myself 10 years from now - or possibly sooner! A pint of Bud is $2.25. I light up my cigar. There’s a sign behind the bar which says; “ Surgeon General’s Warning: Harassing Me About Smoking Could Be Hazzardus To Your Health. “

A bartenderess replaces the bartender in the cowboy hat. She’s nice. She lives in the suburbs. She asks where I live and I tell her. We discuss how convenient everything is in New York. Some lunch customers come in. Even though they start to serve food, smoking continues to be permitted.

BUNKHOUSE SALOON. 124 S. 11TH STREET, LAS VEGAS, NV, 89101. WWW.BUNKHOUSELV.COM

This place is great, but I have a lot of ground to cover, so I head out. It’s turning into a sunny, warm, beautiful day. I walk with my jacket over my shoulder. I head back to Sixth St. And turn South. I am heading to the farther most bar to see what this neighborhood is like. It’s a really nice residential area, and close to the Strip. I made not of the address of this bar but didn’t really take note of the name. When I finally get to the address of the bar, it’s not a bar, but a barber shop. The address is plainly displayed on the front. Turns out the address is that of a mini-mall. The barber shop is on the corner and faces the street, while the other shops face the avenue. I turn the corner and realize how stupid I am. The bar that I am intentionally looking for today, is actually the same bar I accidently stumbled across yesterday, The Fifth Avenue Pub. Can you spell “dementia,” boys and girls?

Well, of course I go in, and order a $1.75 Bud mug. There’s a bartender on duty today. I notice that the machines in the bar top offer 5 cent 9/6 Double Bonus Video Poker. Jackpot pays 4000 nickels. I finish my beer and tell the bartender that I’ve decided to play. Since my drinks are now comp, I upgrade to Bud Bottle. The bartender has a system. He sits at the far rear corner of the bar. Periodically he gets up and makes a round of the bar, serving each patron another drink. When he gets to the end, or the last customer, he returns to his perch. The trick seems to be in keeping all the customers drinking at the same speed. The air conditioning is on, so I put on my jacket. It’s March Madness, and here, as well as everywhere else in town ( and I guess the country ,) people are watching basketball. The sign behind the bar says, “ If you look under 25, be prepared to show ID.”

There’s an old codger sitting two stools away from me. He’s not playing. In fact, he’s sitting at one of the few places at the bar where there isn’t a video poker machine. He’s got a real craggy face and his skin is like leather. He’s a regular, on pretty good terms with the bartender. After awhile he starts to play pool with another regular, a friend of his. I watch out of the corner of my eye. Wow! This guy is great! Of course, he’s only playing on a bar table, but he’s got a fantastic stroke.

When he comes back to the bar, I complement him on his playing. He is modest. He claims the guy who he is playing is better than he is. He tells me he played Willie Mosconi in California. This brief conversation gets me in trouble with the bartender. He chastises me for drinking for free and not playing. I apologize and go back to playing. I end up staying longer than I expected to, but eventually I leave and walk North, back to the Golden Nugget.

I want to stop at Gold Diggers to see if the bartenderess from Sunday is there, so I can say goodbye to her. I’m in luck, she is on duty. She’s really beautiful. She’s blond, and for a change, older than 21. I apologize for abandoning her the previous ( cold ) Sunday. She’s not mad. And seems happy to see me. I take up the same seat I had the last time I was there. There’s a couple sitting where the Canadian couple was sitting last Sunday. They’re from the East Coast. The wife does most of the talking. While I’m there I see a young guy moving around and taking up different seats at the bar and the patio railing. Suddenly a minor commotion occurs. The couple sitting at the bar next to me quickly get up and leave. Apparently they were with the young guy, who was ejected by the management for some offense.

Although I didn’t plan to, I stay until the end of the bartenderess’s shift. This is because I have fallen in love with her. I am drinking pints of Bud as opposed to the 12 ounce Bud bottles I had at the Fifth Avenue. As the bartenderess is leaving, I say goodbye to her. She gives me a cocktail napkin with her name on it. I will treasure it forever.

Tonight will be my last night in Las Vegas, and I have a plan. I will go to my room, take a short nap and go to Binion’s Coffee Shop for their complete dinner special. They have a complete dinner special, a different dinner for each day of the week, which they call Blue Plate Specials. The dinners include soup or salad and are served from 11am until 10pm. The price is $7.99. Today the special is Baked Chicken Pot Pie. Yum! I navigate the steep stairs from Gold diggers. To avoid going through the main part of the casino, I tipsily make my way to my room via my preferred route; past the Grand, the hotel’s “ event center, “ left around the Grotto Ristorante, right along the hallway which fronts onto the pool area, and left to the elevators to my room. I get to my room and promptly pass out.

I wake up hours later. I know the dinner special at Binion’s Coffee Shop is no longer being served. However, I want to make the most of my remaining time in Las Vegas, so I quickly freshen up an go out. It’s the wee hours. I have the rear upper area of Binion’s Coffee Shop all to myself. When I get home I find a note written on a Binion’s Keno form saying I had the late night steak and eggs special, but I don’t remember it.

There’s not much more I can do tonight, so I go back to the Nugget to get in some casino time, before going to bed. I tour the casino floor and then spot some Wheel of Fortune machines. I talk to an attractive woman who lives in Hawaii who is playing also. We talk about the California Club. She says the main attraction for Hawaiians is that they serve Hawaiian style food. I believe I’ve seen on TV that Hawaiians eat a lot of Spam. I stand up a minute to light my cigar, so as not to blow a lot of smoke at my neighbor. Sure enough, even though there are a thousand empty machines open at this time of the night, some woman comes along and tries to sit at my machine. I shoo her away. Before turning in I play some bar-top video poker.

DINNER: Steak & Eggs

FRIDAY

Unhappily, I must leave today. At the airport I have yet another hamburger for lunch at Ruby’s Diner. I like this place. In fact, I like all the various retro hamburger diner chains. And, since I probably won’t have a hamburger again for another year, I say what the heck. You don’t have to have soda, they have water. The nice waitress brings me one and I refill it at the dispenser next to the soda taps.

RUBY’S DINER. McCARREN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT. 5757 WAYNE NEWTON BOULEVARD. LAS VEGAS. NV. 89119. WWW.RUBYS.COM.

I go over to the Prickly Pear Bar & Grille. Again, the place is packed. A mixed party of four is taking up four places at the bar standing up with their luggage on the bar stools. Their drinking coffee out of paper containers which they appear to have purchased elsewhere. I patiently wait for them to leave. They finally do and I get one of the stools and the other three are immediately taken .The place is uncomfortably crowded. I seem to remember on previous visits sitting for hours with maybe only one or two other drinkers.

The beer, served in three sizes, is pricey, but the top-shelf shot, served for $3.00 when you buy a beer makes it a bargain. A women to my right orders the pulled-pork sandwich and a guy to my right plays with his laptop. I have the going-home blues. I wander off to the gate.

Prickly Pear Bar & Grille.D Gates, McCarran International Airport, Las Vegas, NV

LUNCH: Ruby’s hamburger with french fries.

VOL. 3, NO. 2 The Disappearing Bartenderess ( again )

2008-03-26T09:49:00.000-07:00

THE LUSH LIFE by DONATO

VOL. 3, NO. 2 Rudy's / The Disappearing Bartenderess ( Again )

WEDNESDAY

I’m on my way to see a bartenderess for the first time in the New Year. I’m early. I pass by Rudy’s. I stop in. Men on backless stools are spread out along the bar. It’ hard to find a seat that isn’t next to somebody. It’s 10am. I settle for a stool at the front of the room. The stool is pushed out from the bar. As soon as I sit I am hit in the face by a shaft of bright sunshine. The windows used to be pretty much covered over, but now they’re being exposed again so the patron’s can look out. It appears that most recently the copy Rudy’s beer menu’s has been removed from the window, accounting for the early morning light.

The large beer menu is posted behind both the front and rear of the bar. Prices start at $2.50 for a pint of either the generic Rudy’s Red or Rudy’s Regular. I stopped right there, but everyone will find something in his or her price range with other brands of pints and bottles for $3, $4, and up.

As I sit in the morning sun, a guy comes from the back somewhere and goes over to a rolled-up mat that was propped up against the wall by the door. The sunlight reveals the floor the be gouged and cracked. He un-rolls the mat and drops it to the floor. A large cloud of dust rises. I move my stool back a few inches. I look up at the TV. Rudy’s must have the best informed morning drinkers in the city. The large flat screen set is always tuned to CNN. Of course the news seems mostly to provide more reasons to drink. Last visit I witnessed the breaking news of the assassination of Benazir Bhutto, and today it’s the killing of two Georgia police officers.

In spite of the horrible news, one old codger is enjoying himself. He plays a bunch of Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings music on the jukebox. When he returns to his chair he starts whoopin’ and a hollerin’. He sings along to the songs, claps his hands, and has a grand old time. And it’s not yet 10:30 am. Fortunately the day ends early for him, and he’s soon gone. The place returns to tranquility.

I notice some hooks along the bar to hang jackets on. I don’t know if they were always there. At night the place was always packed, and I assume it still is. The booths on the right side of the room as you come in have poles sticking up on the ends of them. I guess they were originally full-blown coat racks. At night people would toss their coats and jackets over the poles. I did this once, but unfortunately I was an early arrival and later in the evening, when I decided to leave, I found thirty or so coats on top of mine.

They’ve cleaned the place up quite a bit over the years. There used to be a large obstruction in the middle of the room by the end of the bar. It had a big duct extending from it over to the wall. I believe there was a sort of shelf on the back of the thing where patrons could rest their drinks. I remember this because one time I saw a very attractive female face peeking out from behind the thing. I had been there awhile, and was really time for me to leave. The nice bartenderess wanted to give me a complimentary beer and I asked her if she could give it to the peeking lady in the back, and she did. I went back to talk to his lady and I was right about her face. She was an actress and a model. She happened to have her 8 x 10 glossy with her, and even though the photo was not recent, she was still really beautiful.

There was also a juke box in front of the obstruction. Now the digital (?) Juke box is mounted on the back wall, near the restrooms. The brick walls have been cleared of the signs and clutter and the place has a more open look. At one time Johnny Dirt, who formerly owned a New Jersey rock and roll bar called the Dirt Club, became involved with Rudy’s as a part owner. He also worked some nights behind the bar. While he was there, the back of the rear portion of the bar had a display of various memorabilia. The display included glass jars of dirt labeled with the place of the content’s origin. Whether customers, fans, or the man himself supplied these, I don’t remember.

One thing they haven’t fixed up are the booths. Their still being patched-up ( and held together ) by red tape and previously, it appears, brown tape. Also I believe was the first bar to offer free hot dogs. I had them a few times, and on some occasions they really hit the spot.

RUDY’S BAR & GRILL. 627 NINTH AVENUE. NEW YORK. NY. 10036

THURSDAY

Remember the Seinfeld episode where Jerry falls asleep and wakes up in the middle of the night with an extremely funny thought? He rights it down and falls back to sleep. The next day he can’t read his own handwriting and can’t remember what it was that was so funny. I come across some writing on a blank page in the back of a book I was reading. It was a note I must have written in some bar or other. It says; “ ...w/ rivets that shine like diamonds she controls her universe.”

FRIDAY

The Case of the Disappearing Bartenderess; Part 3. I leave for Las Vegas on Sunday. I decide to stop off after work to see someone I had been neglecting for several weeks. After a very busy day at work, I arrive at the bar and am disappointed. She seems to have forgotten all about me. When I first met her she was new, and I was a valued customer, now I appeared to have been replaced with a whole crop of in-crowed regulars. Out of the corner of my eye I see one of them lift her up and actually carry her around the back of the room. She does shots with them, but not with me. I am totally dejected. I get a buy back. Big Deal. I’m bored and completely sober. I remember it was on a Friday that the vanishing bartenderess re-appeared.

I go to the bathroom. I watch the TV. It’s college basketball. A group materializes in the rear of the bar, standing around one of the high tables. Remarkably, there are two women in the group. A tall blond plays the jukebox. She plays good music! She plays Johnny Cash and other great stuff. Suddenly, the door opens and the disappearing bartenderess peeks in, and looks around. She goes outside again to were she has parked her cigarette. I know this because when the door again opens I can see her taking a last puff before she puts it out. There’s a guy sitting alone in one of the huge booths near the door. She stops next to him and squats down to talk. I bide my time. What should I do? I must wait for a good moment to approach her. She stops by the next booth. There are two women in it. She speaks to them. She makes a sweep of the rear of the bar and then quickly looks in the back room. When she settles down I’ll be able to speak to her. Then, she’s out the door again. I think she’s going for another cigarette. I wait for her to return, but she does not. She has disappeared. AGAIN! When the bartenderess - who is by now completely indifferent to me - passes by, I cleverly ask; “ Did I just see so-and-so? “ She says I did and then says something about the disappearing bartenderess. As she walks away I correct her; “ You mean...” I say. I don’t stay long after that. I leave and cross the street, and then look back at the bar. Just then I realize I had misunderstood what the bartenderess had said, and now know what she actually meant. As I walk to the bus I hatch a plan to capture the disappearing bartenderess.

Vol. 3, No. 1 ( 2008 ) Bar Stuzzichini / Vasmay Lounge

2008-01-23T10:20:00.000-08:00

MONDAY

I’m meeting my first new friend and going to my first new bar of 2008. It’s called Bar Stuzzichini. Well, it’s real fancy. I arrive early and hang around outside. My date arrives and catches me smoking the butt of a foul smelling stogie. I immediately throw it into the street and we go inside. It’s really nice. There are some small round tables up front for cocktails and such and dining tables on the left going towards the back. A beautiful wood bar is on the right. Somebody sunk a ton of money into this place. The fancy stools at the bar, however, do not have backs on them. My date wants to sit at a table ( naturally. ) We take the small table on the fat right, between the bar and the window.

Since the place is primarily a restaurant there are plates and napkins already on the table as we sit down. They bring over bread and olive oil. Apparently I am the only one who is going to have an alcoholic beverage. I get up at look at the draft been display. I recognize the word “ Brooklyn, “ so I order one of those. All the drinks are served in fancy glasses. The waiter is nice, but seems to think we should eat something. He also tries to sell us imported bottled water. He goes over the menu and I gather that the place is kind of like an Italian tapas bar. The menu includes a bunch of small portioned items as well as some things you can order by the piece.

We put off ordering any food and things never really go well enough for us to want to. Besides, I don’t think they have anything to go with the Diet Coke my date is having. When I go to the rest room I see that the place is huge. On the left wall in the middle of the room looks to be an open kitchen and the seating continues beyond it. The table we’re sitting at looked very desirable when we entered. It was cozy and private. When the sun goes down, however, we’re sitting in a dark corner and there are no candles on the tables. Also it’s too near the bar, and when people sit on the end of the bar, you feel cramped.

And although it was evidently too early for the restaurant customers to arrive, they did have some after work bar business and almost all of the bar stools were occupied before we left. It appeared that neither of us were going to suggest we have another drink or order anything. The waiter, who had been chased away a few times stopped coming around. Beer and a coke: $12.00

BAR STUZZICHINI. 928 BROADWAY. NEW YORK. NY. 10010. WWW.BARSTUZZICHINI.COM

TUESDAY

I take the day off to go uptown to see a nice lady to extend my greetings and salutations for the new year. Also they said it was going to get to be 60 degrees later in the day. As I am waiting for the bus, a family comes out of Petite Abeille, a man and wife and a boy and girl. They look like 4 schmos who live in the neighborhood. They stand around on the sidewalk awhile. The man takes a photo of the outside of the restaurant. Then suddenly they turn and get into a limo that has been standing at the curb.

I go to a bar where two of the three TVs are held together with duct tape. I’m listening to the juke box which sounds surprisingly good on this day. I listen to “ A Boy Named Sue. “ When “ Bad Bad Leroy Brown “ comes on I am reminded of an incident that happened awhile back. There actually was at one time an honest-to-God junkyard on the southeast corner of Houston Street and Third Avenue. Well, I was walking home passed the junkyard one day and someone must have left the gate opened, because an honest-to-God junkyard dog came running out of the yard right at me barking up a storm. Obviously he thought I was going to steal some of the junk out of the junkyard. He lunged at me and, just like in the movies, he clamped his jaws down on the sleeve of my raincoat. So there I was standing there with a big pissed-off dog attached to my sleeve. Of course the whole thing only lasted a matter of seconds because, fortunately, the junkyard guy came running out of the junkyard after the dog and freed my sleeve from the dog’s mouth and took him back inside the junkyard.

Suddenly a little middle aged woman comes rushing into the bar carrying two dozen roses. She jumps on the stool next to me, throws the roses on the bar and starts talking to me like we’re old friends. She’s from Arizona and the roses are for the staff of the hotel where she’s staying because they’ve been so nice. ( Two dozen roses for $11.00 at a neighborhood market. ) She has a $3.00 beer. She has a sad story about why she’s in New York. She needs information about transportation to the airport. She’s rushing because she has to leave in a little while. I suggest the airport shuttles that I’ve seen pick people up at hotels. I tell her that I sure that the concierge at the hotel will be able to hook her up with something.

We talk some more. Suddenly, she throws a $5 bill on the bar and in a flash, she’s gone. The bartenderess asks me if the woman and I had arranged to meet there. She says she thought we knew each other. I tell her that I thought the woman was a regular ( until she told me about the hotel. ) The bartenderess tells me that she thought the woman and I got along well together. I ask her if she thought this woman was my type. She doesn’t comment.

FRIDAY

I go to work in super heavy rain. NY1 said the rain would continue all day, but when I leave work ( early ) it had stopped. I intend to walk to a bar on Grand Street. I get to City Hall and there’s another torrential downpour. I press on. I get to Grand Street and the bar isn’t open yet. I decide to go to another bar on Houston Street that opens at noon. Since I’m already wet, I continue walking. It’s a long way in the rain. I arrive completely soaked.

The bar is called The Vasmay Lounge. I knew it opened at noon because I passed it before. I had seen a sign out front that I thought said Happy Hour from 12 noon. The bar is on the corner of Houston and Suffolk Streets, and there are two doors at the corner, one opening on to Houston Street, and the other opening on to Suffolk Street. The Suffolk Street door, however, is permanently closed.

I go inside. There’s a bartenderess and one female customer. I inquire and find out that I am mistaken about the Happy Hour. Apparently there is some beer special from 12 noon to 1pm, but Happy Hour doesn’t begin until 5. I order a pint of Bud. It’s $4. The stools have backs on them and I hang my coat on one of them. A puddle of water soon forms on the floor. The place is cute and cozy. There’s an oddly-placed staircase to the left by the door as you enter. The bar is directly in front of you. To the left is a lounge area with a pool table. The bar is decorated with miscellaneous nicknaks; religious statues, candles, pictures of Elvis and Marilyn, etc. The mens’ room has CBGB-like grafitti.

The female customer at the bar is drinking Jameson in Dunkin Donuts coffee. The bartenderess and her customer are talking about the rain. I tell her I walked here from City Hall. She asks me why I didn’t take a cab. I tell her it’s because I’m too cheap, which is why I asked her about Happy Hour.

A guy comes in wheeling things that look like beer kegs, but are much smaller. They look heavy. The barteenderess asks me if I would like another beer before the guy with the kegs cleans the taps. So that’s what he’s doing. I never saw this before. The guy hauls his canisters down to the basement via the stairs by the door and does his thing. When he’s finished he comes back upstairs and starts detailing the taps with a special brush. I’m impressed. The bartenderess says they do this once a month.

The bartenderess hasn’t been paying much attention to me, and it’s actually the female customer, not the bartenderess, who asks me if the beer tasted better after the taps were cleaned. ( She did, however, tell me the first step in learning how to juggle. ) A young guy comes in and she asks him for ID an immediately begins engaging him in deep conversation. It’s just as well. By the time I finish my third beer the rain has completely stopped. Of course, my clothes are still wet, but the sun is even starting to come out, and at one point, about half way home, there’s actually bright sunshine. When I reach the Southeast corner of 12th Street and Avenue A, I see one of the front gates is up at what used to be The Raven. Workmen are gutting it, but the name is still over the door and two little logos are still on the glass of the front door.

VASMAY LOUNGE. 269 E. HOUSTON STREET, NEW YORK. NY. 10002

VOL. 2, NO. 11 DENO'S BIKINI BAR U.S.A.

2008-01-10T09:16:00.000-08:00

MONDAY

Where our story left off; “ I stagger down Eighth Avenue in search of the new promised land. It’s now dark out. My destination is not exactly at 34th and Eighth, but I keep walking. Suddenly I see the neon lights... “ And here we are. The place is called DENO’S BIKINI BAR U.S.A. The establishment’s business cards also refer to it as “ Bikini Bar @ Deno’s Partyhouse U.S.A. I walk in side. A small Chinese man at the door greets me warmly. There are a few customers sitting on the backless stools, but I don’t look at them. I look at the two beautiful women behind the bar. As advertised, the beautiful women are WEARING REAL BIKINIS. Yes, like the one’s worn at the beach - not some bikini-like costume. And the bartenderesses are friendly, too. They both come over to say hello to a new customer.

Everything is great, but I don’t stay long. After all, I was at another place earlier, and I did accomplish my mission; which was finding the place. So I only have one or two beers. But, I shall return!

SATURDAY

I go to pick up some stogies on Fifth Avenue and, miracle of miracles, there is a special bus that for some reason goes from in front of JR Cigars to Penn Station - the general location of Deno’s. I walk to Eighth Avenue and see a Pizza place across the street. The sign says Italian family owned since 1964. I jaywalk across the Avenue towards it. As I cross I see two guys to my left who are crossing with me on a collision course. They obviously want Pizza also. I get there first and try the door. It’s locked. The three of us are disappointed.

I look back across Eighth Avenue and see on the side of the Avenue I just came from, another Pizza place. This one apparently NOT Italian Family owned since 1964. I see someone go in, so I guess it’s open. I jaywalk back across the Avenue. I get to the place and am surprised to find that the two other guys have not followed me here. It’s called Amadeus Pizza. A slice is $2.25. It’s a great slice of New York Pizza in my book. It’s the heavy-on-the-cheese kind that I prefer. It’s like the great slice at Mariella’s Pizza on Third Avenue and 16th Street. I finish my slice and jaywalk yet again across Eighth Avenue to Deno’s. I walk in and am greeted with a warm “ good morning “ by the door guy. I return the greeting. He’s the only one in the place beside the bartenderes, who is Wearing A Bikini!

Naturally, she’s beautiful. She’s also slim and sexy. I can see the place better now. It’s pretty big. The space is split into two rooms. The main room on the right is where you enter and where there’s a long bar. A partition separates the left side of the room where there is a small horseshoe bar and there’s a pool table in the rear. The front of the bar is made up of a row of large windows with potted palm trees in front of them. There are also two high cocktail tables with high stools. These stools have backs on them. Unfortunately, the stools at the bar do not. There are two TVs behind the bar and some sort of oversized TV in the other room. The general look of the place is that of a rec room or an American Legion hall.

I settle in at the bar. The bartenderess asks me if I have been to any other Bikini Bars. I tell her about the few that I know of. Across the street, through the palm trees and the windows you can see another bar. I tell her that that place was one of the first Bikini Bars in the city. This is later confirmed when I overhear another customer say the same thing. The bartenderess is not only attractive, but she’s smart to. We talk about the big issues; terrorism, world hunger, the United Nations, starving children, unemployment, economic theory, and on and on.

Anew door guy had replaced the one that was here when I came in. This one does some janitorial work as he patrols the door. The TVs are showing football news. He asks me if I’m a sports fan. I tell he I watch a little baseball. I ask him if he’s seen “ The Bronx is Burning. “ He has not, but he has a copy of a book about the same era. He knows a lot about that period in Yankee history. We talk about Thurman Munson as he sweeps the floor.

It’s turned out to be a beautiful almost summer-like day, even though there are only two days left before the end of the year. I’m back to talking the bartenderess. Suddenly another bikini-clad bartenderess appears behind the bar. She had somehow snuck in while I wasn’t looking. This one is also gorgeous. She’s a different body type. Shorter and more zoftic. She’s also pierced and tattooed! She’s also very friendly. We converse. She’s an artist. Naturally we talk about art. This is the second conversation I’ve had about art with a bartenderess this month!

There has been virtually no tap beer available today. Apparently there was a huge crowd of holiday revelers Friday night and they drank up everything in the place. Fortunately today the bar is receiving a steady stream of fresh supplies; bottles and kegs. But meanwhile, I have been drinking bottle Bud. The 4 ounce difference between a bottle and a pint will be noticed when I leave with my wits almost completely about me.

AMADEUS PIZZA. 408 EIGHTH AVENUE. ( 30TH & 31ST Streets. ) NEW YORK. NY. 10001

LUNCH: Slice Pizza

MONDAY ( New Year's Eve )

Another early leave from work is authorized. I Subway uptown. I emerge from the Subway and am blinded by the low Winter Sun shining up Eighth Avenue. The weather is very mild. I stop again at Amadeus. The pizza is again cheesy and good. I head over to Deno’s again. The little Chinese door guy is dressed like Sinatra. He’s wearing a tuxedo with a raincoat over it. He greets me with a warm “ Happy New Year. “ The bartenderess who worked the early Saturday shift is on again. She’s working alone. She’s talking to a young guy who tells her he lives in Staten Island.

If there was even a little bit of tap beer left on Saturday, there isn’t a drop to be found today. The casks are sitting un-tapped in the basement. And the New Year’s clock is ticking! I again choose Bud bottle. More people drift in. Three guys come in and inquire about Happy Hour. Apparently the Happy Hour here is staggered; 8am to 10am; 4pm to 6pm, and another later one. Drinks are a dollar off during Happy Hour. There is apparently also something on the sign out front about “ well shots. “ The three guys want to know what exactly a “ well shot “ is. They have a discussion with the bartenderess about this, but there seems to be some communications problem, and the issue is not completely resolved. The three guys do not stay long.

The bartenderess elicits my help in trying to find some music on what turns out to be the bar’s satellite radio. She hands me a remote devise. Unfortunately, merely by pushing the channel “ up and down “ button, I not only fail to find any music, but somehow shut off the sound entirely. The bartenderess asks another patron to help, but he is unable to restore the sound. The bartenderess plays the jukebox to combat the silence. When she returns I imagine she gives me a dirty look. I am ashamed and embarrassed.

The restoration of the music is a relieve to the bartenderess and the other patrons. Apparently they have never sat in a bar where the jukebox was not playing. Soon something extraordinary happens. A guy comes in from the street wearing a jacket and tie and instead of buying the bar a drink, he buys everyone CHEESECAKE! And it’s great cheesecake, too. It’s a cherry cheesecake from D’Aiuto’s which is practically next door. D’Aiuto’s says it’s been baking since 1924. The guy then goes over and plays classic disco on the jukebox.

The guy in the supermarket had asked me what I was doing for New Year’s Eve. I said I would be asleep before anything happened. He said that when his young son stayed up for New Year’s for the first time, when midnight struck his son was disappointed that nothing actually “ happened” and said “ that’s it?”

The bartenderess is surprised when I get ready to leave. She thought I was going to stay until midnight! She tells me there will be 7 - count ‘em - 7 bikini clad women on duty tonight. And they are all beautiful! I’ve seen four of them so far, and I know this true. Nevertheless I head out into the night. I smoke a stogie as I walk down Eighth Avenue to get the bus. It is a surprising mild night. Arriving home I look out the window on to the intersection. The usual number of people are out and about, doing their usual thing. It looks like just another night.

D’AIUTO’S PASTRY CORP. 405 EIGHTH. NEW YORK. NY. 10001.WWW.NEWYORKNEWYORKCHEESECAKE.COM

DENO’S. BIKINI BAR. U.S.A. 393 EIGHT AVENUE. NEW YORK,. NY. 10001.

LUNCH: Slice Pizza.

TREAT: Cheesecake

Dinner: Oven Baked Pork Chop w/potato

VOL. 2 ; NO. 10 WHY NOT / NEW BIKINI BAR

2007-12-28T09:01:00.000-08:00

The LUSH LIFE by DONATO

FRIDAY

How many construction workers can you fit in an average size bar. If it’s the Friday before Christmas - A LOT! I leave work early and head uptown. I stop at the Papaya place at the corner of 42nd Street and Ninth Avenue for the businessman’s lunch - two franks with mustard and sauerkraut. ( No papaya. ) I’m about to expend my last lead in the case of X; the vanishing bartenderess.

Reviewing my notes on the case, X told me that the place she worked at was “ right over there. “ The only place I can see fitting that description is a bar called WHY NOT. I stand out front and have a stogie It’s a beautiful, sunny day, if a little chilly. All is quiet. There isn’t even anyone else standing out in front smoking. I go in and it’s a different story. There actually are A few empty seats at the bar, but there’s a big crowd wrapped around the front bar corner which is to the right as you enter. There are also bunches of people in the rear and at the high tables to the left of the bar.

I get a seat at mid-bar. There are two ( very attractive ) bartenderesses on duty. One of them leaves her post and goes to the front of the bar by the window. Somehow I make out through the throng of customers that she is slicing one of those six-foot heros. I haven’t seen one of these put out in a bar in awhile, although my former local did so every Friday at one time.

A guy to my left starts up a conversation. I tell him I haven’t been in this bar, but I was in the place that was here previously, although I momentarily forget the name. He remembers it was called Bellevue Bar. The place is actually very much the same inside, except, of course, that it’s now a nice, clean well-run bar. Apparently two owners are on the premises supervising the operation. The old Bellevue was a real dive bar, but it could be interesting, and at various times of it’s life it had live entertainment in the back at night.

Naturally this guy is a construction worker. He turns out to be an electrician. I tell him I knew an electrician. My electrician told me that on certain days, such as weekends or holidays he would make “ a dollar a minute. “ This electrician actually confirms this with an anecdote about a foreman who, when he interrupted his workers for a five minute meeting, used to tell them that that meeting “ just cost me $5.”

I ask one of the bartenderesses if X the vanishing bartenderess works here. She doesn’t. With that I really don’t have much interest in the place. I won’t be staying long. Two young women actually come into the bar. They drink wine! They sit down at the bar to the right of me. The electrician remarks that he almost never sees women come in here. I have a second beer. The electrician has a slice of six-foot hero and leaves a little while later. I finish my beer and leave too.

I went to the restroom when I came in and before I leave I pay another visit. When I come out I realize that the bar had become much more crowded then when I first came it. I jostle my way through the mass of humanity to the door. All the construction workers who are standing are very polite. They continually move around to let each other pass. I make it to the door and out into the cool air.

WHY NOT. 538 NINTH AVENUE. NEW YORK. NY. WWW.WHYNOTBARNYC.COM

MONDAY

It’s Christmas Eve. The new management at work get it into its head to authorize a 2pm leave for the staff. I head uptown to one of my regular stops. I am worried that today might be a repeat of Friday; that is, masses of pre-holiday revelers. Cautiously, I peer through the window in the door. I can’t believe it. Empty! Only one patron inside. I go in.

Turns out that all the construction workers either left work early today or had the entire day off. I hang around awhile and more customers come in. I notice the prices have gone up. The guy who was here before me has been keeping up a steady stream of conversation with the bartenderess, which I had been trying to ignore. Suddenly, however he says something VERY interesting. Turns out there’s a new Bikini Bar, or at least one that I hadn’t heard about. He says it’s at 34th Street and Eighth Avenue. Right away I’m off like a shot - or rather, I stagger down Eighth Avenue in search of the new promised land. It’s now dark out. My destination is not exactly at 34th and Eighth, but I keep walking. Suddenly I see the neon lights... To Be Continued.

VOL. 2, NO. 9 P&G / MARION'S / YOGI'S

2007-12-24T08:00:00.000-08:00

The LUSH LIFE by DONATO

FRIDAY

A beautiful, sunny morning, but quit chilly. “ Football weather, “ We used to say. I am out for a constitutional. I walk West across Central Park. A group of female Japanese tourists are huddled around a map showing the park. They ask where something is. I’m not very helpful. The paths are like a maze. I struggle to make a straight path from East to West. I finally leave the park and make my way to Amsterdam Avenue and 73th Street. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this far uptown. I think I’m getting a nosebleed.

I came to visit the P & G Bar. Actually the beautiful old neon sign says both “ Bar “ and “ Café, “ I read in the paper that the bar is in danger of being put out of business due to current area development. The door is open, and I see a guy in the back hanging up his coat. I go in and ask if he’s open. “ Five minutes, “ he says.

Everything in the place is very old wood. The bar is to the left as you enter, and there’s a separate area of wood booths on the right. The place is a complete antique except for the high tech glass door and matching frontage that looks like it was put on recently. I believe I spent part of a very boring evening in here many years ago.

The bartender has finished his elaborate preparations and is now ready to serve. I ask the bartender for a pint of Bud. It’s a whopping $4.25. So far “ 5 minutes “ is the only thing he’s said to me.

Sit looking out the windows and around the bar. There’s a flyer taped up behind the bar that says “ Save the P & G. ) I look above it and across the very top of the back of the bar is a band of leaded glass with “ P & G “ imprinted in the center. Well, enough of this. I ask the bartender if he knows where one can get the Number 11 Bus southbound. He doesn’t. I leave and go over to a bunch of buses parked near 72nd Street. A driver tells me I can get the bus on Columbus Avenue, which I should have guessed anyway.

I wait for the Number 11 Bus in front of the beautiful building on the Southwest corner of 7nd Street and Columbus Avenue. The basement of the building still houses a nightclub. A long time ago it was a pretty well-known place called TRAX. John Belushi once jumped on stage there to be an to impromptu judge of some sort of contest. This part of Columbus Avenue has yet to be devastated by the current construction / development boom. It appears to be the same as it always was. Hip shops and old buildings - the West Side.

The Case of the Vanishing Bartenderess. I ride the bus downtown. It is a pleasant enough journey, although the bus is crowded, as usual, and the traffic is very heavy. I am heading to a bar that I had been avoiding. Seems my favorite bartenderess had been acting rather cold towards me ever since that day I proposed to her. I walk in the bar and am both surprised and astonished. I am surprised because the bartenderess is not on duty and astonished at who is there in her place. Behind the bar is a gorgeous, beautiful woman with long blond hair, and a perfect, fabulous body. She’s better looking and has a better body than anybody in Playboy or any other magazine. She is a thousand times more attractive than my former favorite bartenderess. I stand there looking at her with my mouth open. I realize I am but dirt under her shoe.

I take a seat. I order a pint of Bud, but it turns out the cask is empty, so I settle for Bud Light. To make conversation I tell her that I would find the other bartenderess on duty. I tell her her name. The name means nothing to her. She says she just started working here. “ See what happens when you miss a week, “ I say. She says she never met the person I am inquiring about. “ Well, things change pretty fast around here, “ I offer. She says that she heard that the place was a different kind of bar previously. I tell her the place had many different lives in it’s history. I tell her it was a Jazz club at one time. She is impressed. We continue talking and somehow, suddenly, she blurts out that the bartenderess I had been asking about “... was fired. “

Ah ha! She knows something! I do not, however, pursue the conversation further, and let the matter drop. The day goes on. A gang of construction workers, all from the same job, swoop in for lunch. Later, lunch hour over, they leave. I have more Bud Light. More customers come and go. Then, suddenly, the door opens, and who should walk in, but the vanishing bartenderess herself. My new favorite bartenderess goes over to her, greets her warmly, and talks to her like their old friends. The object of my inquiry then sits down one stool away from me.

Sitting between us is a scruffy looking guy who orders a $10 pitcher of Bud. ( I guess they must have tapped a new keg by now. ) I go over to say hello to X the vanishing bartenderess. If she was cold before, as a fellow customer, she doesn’t have much to say to me. She does, however, tell me she is working at another bar in the neighborhood. She tells me the name and says it’s “ right over there.” I go back to my seat. Later she seems to be engrossed in a conversation with the scruffy looking guy. I become paranoid. How can she have so much to say to him? X leaves after having ordered only one drink.

I’ve obviously stayed too long. The scruffy looking guy turns out to be Irish. I suspect he’s an IRA member. He engages me in conversation. Apparently he just found out that there are a lot of bad things in the world and wants to tell me about them. Little does he know what crackpot ideas I have floating around in my noggin. I give him a run for his money. He asks me for my phone number about a hundred times. I think he wants to recruit me. I don’t give it to him.
I finally leave, and to my surprise, get a big hug and kiss from my new favorite bartenderess. Ah, happiness. I think I should wait a few days before I propose to her. As I walk to the bus stop I look around for the bar where X told me she was working. I don’t find it. It’s evidently not “ right over there. “ I take the bus home.

P & G BAR ( Café ) 279 AMSTERDAM AVENUE. ( CORNER OF 73RD ST. ) NEW YORK. NY. 10023.

SATURDAY

I’m hot on the trail of X and the bar she says she works at. Like a good detective, I first go over old ground - the area around the bar where she used to work - to see if I missed anything. Nope, It’s not around here. My next step is to go back to the scene of the crime, or rather, or scene of the disappearance. The bartenderess on duty, new to me, is nice, but cannot, in any way compare to my new found love from yesterday. I sit down and order. I ask her if she knows the whereabouts of the mystery bar. She’s never heard of it. She says she’s not at all familiar with this area. I tell her that’s definitely to her credit.

She offers to help find the place. She's amazing! Using primitive tools; first the Yellow Pages, and then the telephone, she locates the bar. It's in the opposite direction of where I had been looking. She writes the information down on a napkin for me! A guy comes in and sits at the front end of the bar. He orders a bottle of Bud. He asks if there's a jukebox; or perhaps if it's ok to play the jukebox - I'm not sure. Up to this point there has been total quiet. The TVs - tuned to football - have the sound off. He goes over to the jukebox and, naturally, plays loud, unlistenable crap. And, he's not even that young a guy. You'd think he'd have better taste. I guess to myself that he's in his forties. He later tells the bartenderess that he's 47! And he's playing crap on the jukebox!

Although she has had very little to say to me - except for finding the location of the mystery bar - the bartenderess starts up a roaring conversation with the guy who plays crap on the jukebox. In the meantime another guy has come in and sits at the back end of the bar. A dueling jobs competition develops between the crap song player and the other guy. Who has the better job? The crap song guy thinks he has the best job in the world. He works for a major New York sports franchise. Very impressive. So far, he's ahead. The other guy, however, bests him by saying He has the best job in the world. He's RETIRED! And he did so at age 55! I tell him it seems that a lot of people are afraid to retire. He says he's glad he did it and with the tax advantages he says he has mor money than when he was working.

Although I have become comfortable, I must leave to continue the hunt. I say goodbye to the bartenderess and go in search of the mystery bar. I head uptown I see a place that I think has a name similar to the one I am seeking, but it's entirely too posh. I go in and inquire. I am right, it's the wrong place. I continue on. I get to one block with vacant stores and empty lots on both sides of the street. I pull out the napkin with the address of the bar on it. There, across the street, hiding behind a parked tour bus, is the place I seek. I cross the street. It’s closed. A guy inside says the bartender on duty has not arrived yet, but the place should be open in an hour or so.

I walk down the block to find a place to wait. There is a sports bar packed with screaming fans. I can hear them from the street. I keep going and come across El Azteca Mexican Restaurant. The sandwich sigh out front advertises Happy Hour specials from 12 noon. Beers are $3. I go in. There’s a cozy front room with a bar and some high-stooled cocktail tables. The nrestaurant is in the back. The beer is in bottles - no taps - and even imported Mexican beers are $3. I have a Dos Equis. This place is great! There’s a large group at a long table in the restaurant, but they’re not noisy. At the bar there’s me and three old codgers at the front of the bar by the window. I nurse my one beer and decide to try back at the mystery bar to see if it’s open yet. I get there and naturally, it’s not. To be continued...

EL AZTECA MEXICAN RESTAURANT. 783 NINTH AVENUE ( corner of 52ND St. ) NEW YORK, NY. 10019. WWW.ELAZTECANYC.COM

SUNDAY

I don dress trousers to go down to Marion’s Continental Restaurant and Lounge. They’re having Mode Merr’s Holiday Fashion & Burlesque Brunch. I go because Rocket J is one of the models. There’s a small bar in front where I can hang out without actually attending the Brunch. I ate hear many years ago and it was a nice restaurant and probably still is. This, however, is something different. I get a bad vibe immediately. The place is full of phoneys thinking they’re “ hip “ and trying to look like they’re having a good time. Well, I guess not all of them, but...

The restaurant is full and there are four or so people sitting at the bar when I get there, but luckally I get a seat at the back end of the bar near the service station with a clear view of the proceedings as well as the holding area were the models wait to strut their stuff. The bartender and the few wait people I see are completely amateur. The bartender is making a rocket science project out of making seven generic drinks; three Mimosas, three Bloody Mary’s and another drink that looks like a whisky sour. It takes him the same amount of time it takes to analyze DNA. A waitress asks him what the seventh drink is. Somehow he doesn’t know!

Of course, all this time the bartender has been ignoring me, and I him. Eventually he gets around to acknowledging me. I order a Heineken from the small assortment of bottle beers, Samuel Adams and six or so imports. I arrived at the right time. I don’t have to wait long for the festivities to begin. There’s a MC standing behind the bar with a microphone and a CD player. He announces the performance portion of the brunch. I immediately don’t find him funny. First up are two burlesque performers, one after the other. After them there is a pause before the fashion show begins. One guest asks the MC if she has time for a smoke break. The MC announces to the room that there will be a smoke break. A quarter of the room immediately leaves to smoke, including the MC.

When everyone returns from smoking the fashion show starts. It’s not like the fashion shows in the movies. The MC doesn’t describe each outfit the models are wearing. There’s just a different piece of music as each model walks down the center of the room to the back and returns to the dressing room across from the back of the bar. There are lots of models in addition to Rocket J. Lots have tattoos, and a lot of them are, well, heavy. Most are quite attractive. Among the models are the Pontani Sisters. I’ve never seen them in person before. What can I say. Angie Pontani is HOT! After a brief conversation with Rocket J, I leave.

MARION’S CONTINENTAL RESTAURANT and LOUNGE. 354 BOWERY ( at E. 4th Street.) VENUE. NEW YORK. NY 10003. WWW.MARIONSNYC.COM.

Before I go home I want to check out a nearby place that advertised a Happy Hour starting at noon. It’s called COMPANY. The place reminds me somewhat of Motor City. Lots of floor space around the bar and an uncovered wall of windows looking out onto the street. Not much decor. The best thing about the place is the green and while tile floor. Unfortunately it looks like the night cleaners haven’t been in this weekend. They also have a kitchen and serve food.

The happy hour is the opposite of Otto’s Shrunken Head. I believe at Otto’s the tap beer was full price and the bottle beer was two-for-one. Here the tap beer is two-for-one and the bottle beer is full price. Unfortunately, this is the worst Happy Hour I’ve come across. They have Sierra Nevada, Stella, Brooklyn Lager and maybe one or two others on tap. I order The Brooklyn Lager. The full ( regular ) price is $6, and at two-for-one would be $3. However, I can’t believe my eyes when the beer is served in a 12 ounce mug instead of a pint! This is a complete rip-off. I mean, who serves beer in mugs anymore ( unless it’s at a cheaper price from the pint. ) Regular price for a bottle of Bud is $5!

Well, I’m stuck. The bartenderess is young and good-looking. She’s also got fantastic eyesight. After she serves me she goes back to reading the small print of L Magazine in the poorly lit bar. I say something to her about the magazine having a lot of stuff about places in Williamsburg. Although at one point she appeared to be in some sort of trance, we actually begin to have a real conversation, first about film and then about art, believe it or not. The romance comes to an abrupt end, however, with the arrival of a customer who she immediately attaches herself to. He’s a tall guy with dyed blond hair wearing a sleeveless T shirt. In the Winter!

COMPANY. 242 EAST 10TH STREET. NEW YORK. NY. 10003.

The case of the vanishing bartenderess - Continued. I go once again to the bar where I my x-love told me she was working. It’s called BAR 9. This is my third visit. Even though the bar’s recording says it’s open at three, and it’s now around 4, it’s again closed. I stand by the windowed door and peer in. I see two guys inside. One is behind the bar and the other is sitting at the bar with his back towards me. I try the door handle, even though I see the “ Close “ sign on the door. The guy who was sitting at the bar comes to the front, unlocks the door ( but doesn’t open it ) and walks away. I go inside.

The place doesn’t look ready to open as there are a bunch of hammers and pipes and things on the bar. I go up to the guy behind the bar and ask him if the object of my quest works there. She doesn’t. He asks me if I’d like something. I say that since I’m here I might as well have a beer. I order a pint of Bud. Good news is, it’s only $3.

It’s an odd place. There’s a large front room with a rather smallish zig-zagged shaped bar on the left. There are some couches on the left and a lot of wasted space. The walls are brick. The bar is copper-topped and there are big, heavy, brass ship signal lights like you see in the WWII movies hanging down over the bar for decoration and illumination.

At the back of the room is a small stage and, on the right, some steps leading up to the back part of the bar. I go in search of the restrooms to explore. There’s lots of room back here. More couches as you walk to the back and after that a wider room with some stools and stuff. These two areas wrap around a large kitchen on the left. The restrooms are downstairs.

Back to my seat I notice that there is also a large window past the end of the bar which looks out onto this kitchen. The regular bartenderess comes in, starts fussing around putting out glasses and what-not and ignores me. Two other guys come in and sit towards the front of the bar. They know this regular bartenderess. The nice guy who served me previously comes back and asks me if I want another beer. I say I do. One of the two other guys at the bar is talking on his cell phone. Apparently whoever he was talking to asked him where he was. He says he’s at “Club 9. “

BAR NINE. 807 NINTH AVENUE. NEW YORK, NY. 10019.

TUESDAY

I am heading even farther Uptown then when I went to P&G. It’s a place called YOGI’S. It’S on 76th Street! I read something about the place and am curious, but the real reason I’m going this far out of my way is because I’m pretty sure they habe bartenderesses there. I believe I’m the first customer of the day. It looks small from the outside, but it’s actually quite big. A long room in front with a long, beat-up bar on the left and an area in the rear and a fairly large game-room off to the right rear. The prices are right. You can get a pint of Pabst for $2.50, and I did just that. The bartenderess is young, very attractive, and very nice. She tells me the place used to be called the Bear Bar. There’s still a bear out front and another one inside.

Customers come in and out, not staying very long. Some leave and return later in the day. Two guys are sitting toward the front. They are talking about the disadvantages of wearing steel-toed construction boots. ( Apparently the steel toe gets cold in winter. ) One of the guys who was in earlier comes back with some friends. One is sent out into the cold on an unsuccessful search for a Santa Clause hat for the bartenderess.

I enjoy talking to the bartenderess. She’s extremely young and extremely smart. I would adopt her, but she’s already got a family. The time goes by. The place is filling up. These must be construction workers. Suddenly I am talking to a woman who comes in and sits one stool away from me. This usually ends in disappointment. I tell her she looks like a model. I actually believe this. Of course, I’ve had a few Pabsts and I think maybe a shot of something. But, There’s something odd. Rather than flow, the conversation between us belches, stutters and starts like a Model T Ford.

It’s now dark outside. My new friend goes outside to smoke. She smokes Lucky Strike. When she returns things are not good. She now becomes very friendly with the guy on the other side of her. I go to the men’s room. On the way back I say goodbye to the bartenderes. Outside I pause to light up as stogie. I see my ex new friend with her new friend. I walk towards Columbus Avenue.

YOGI’S. 2156 BROADWAY. NEW YORK, NY. 10023.

Vol. 2; No. 8 A Walk Down 3rd Avenue / Mob Tour

2007-12-03T08:27:00.001-08:00

The LUSH LIFE by DONATO

Vol 2., No. 8

Caliente Cab Co. / Black Sheep / Maker’s / Rodeo Bar / Mob Tour.

FRIDAY

A walk down Third Avenue. Well, it turned out that way, although I had just planned to visit the North-most Caliente Cab Co. location at 33rd and Third. They advertise a happy hours with $5 ( I think ) margaritas, $3 domestic beer and $4 imported beer. The beer is in bottles - there are no taps - and the “ domestic beer “ turns out to be Coors Light.I am the only bar customer. A Latin radio station plays over the PA system. There are no back on the barstools. It’s just after 4pm. It’s about an hour until sunset, but it’s still extremely bright out. As is customary in these places, you get a complimentary basket of taco chips and a dish of watery salsa. The back of the bar is a display of liquor bottles back lit in yellow and orange. Two TVs are tuned to ESPN; which appears to be mandatory in all New York bars. I don’t want to stay, and disappointed with my experience I decide to leave and try someplace else.

CALIENTE CAB CO. 488 THIRD AVENUE ( corner of 33rd St. ) New York, NY 212-685-3828

I go across the street and up a block and come across two similar bars with similar Happy Hours.
One is practically empty and the other is quite full. I choose the full, lively place. It’s The Black Sheep. Domestic pints are $3.50 and imported pints are $4.00. The only seats at the rather long bar are the three front-most seats where the bar makes an “ L. “ I sit down and look out the window. It’s 4:25 pm and the sun is still hanging in there. There are upside-down Tiffany-style lamps on brass poles on the bar. The staff appears to be 100% Irish. There are a lot of TVs. On the bar top in the corner sits an antique slot machine. It’s very old looking, but it takes quarters, so I guess it can’t be that old.

I notice they have a Max Racks display by the door. I take one of the Black Sheep cards. On the back it says; “ The hottest spot on the east side of New York. Doctors, lawyers, Bankers & Brokers rockin the night away with our DJ. Private room/Parties Galore. Check it, you’ll love it.“

I order a Yuengling, not thinking what the imported beers for 50c more might be. It’s after five and the sun is finally losing the battle and starting to set. The bartender doesn’t take my money right away. Apparently he is waiting for someone else at this end of the bar to make a purchase so he can kill two birds with one stone.

When he finally takes my money he naturally charges me $4.00 instead of $3.50. When I bring this to his attention, instead of just giving me 50c, he goes back to mid-bar and consults a large piece of oak tag covered with small writing. He comes back and gives me the 50c and says that he made the mistake because Yuengling is “ new on tap “ in the bar. I take the opportunity to inquire if Guinness is included in the $4 imported pint Happy Hour price. It is! I upgrade to Guinness.

I take a trip to the restroom and find an incongruous “ instillation “ in the far left corner of the room. Someone has attempted to create a “ lounge “ in the corner of this Irish bar. There are plastic back-lit panels on the corner walls, squares in the colors of the Irish flag. There are also a few “ modern “ tables and chairs and a white “ egg chair “ ( like in the movie “ Men In Black“ ) with red interior.

I return to my seat. One guy just around the corner of the bar asks for his bar tab. It’s a nice long one. He puts on his glasses and examines it as he drinks his on-th-rocks drink and beer chaser. A little later some friends of his come in and I here some talk about telephones. I seem to remember that there’s a large Verizon facility nearby. So these guys are neither Bankers nor Brokers, they’re with the phone company. Good news is, the bar stools here have backs on them. There are eight thousand Irish bars in the big city. This has just been another one of them.

THE BLACK SHEEP. 583 THIRD AVENUE. ( 38TH STREET ) NEW YORK. NY. 10016

I think I will head on home. It’s gotten quite chill out, but I walk home. I walk down the east side of Third Avenue and pretty soon I come to a nice little bar I saw before, but never checked out. It’s called Maker’s . I look through the window. There’s a bartenderess all by herself behind the empty bar. Two guys are playing pool in back and another guy is playing some sort of machine off to the right side of the room. I walk in and ask the bartenderess if I can join her. For $3 I get a pint of that red beer that a lot of bars have and are permitted to put their own name on. I used to drink this beer at Rudy’s and Finnerty’s. Rudy’s calls it “ Rudy’s Red. “ I forget what Maker’s calls it.

The bar is nice, not a dive. A nice clean, masculine look with photographs of Old New York on the walls. The two customers leave and I’m there with the bartenderess and the other buy who I take to be the owner by the way he acts, although I don’t know that he is. The bartenderess is nice. She lives in Hoboken. We discuss Hoboken. There’s a plaque marking the location of the house where Frank Sinatra lived. I get the story about the famous Clam Broth House. We discuss the area where the Stevens Institute is, the highest elevation in Hoboken. I order more red beer.

A tall young guy comes in. The owner fawns all over him. He sits at the front corner of the bar. The owner instructs the bartenderess to start a tab for him. The tall guy sits listening to head phones and reading and ignores the owner and the bartenderess. A couple comes in. The owner is playing pool by himself. When he finishes I ask to play with him. It’s $1.50 is quarters. I have to pay, so I guess he must be the owner. I find I have completely forgotten how to play 8 Ball. However, in spite of the beers I am stroking the ball pretty good. I win by accident when I make the shot I call, and without planning it, the 8 Ball goes in on the shot.

I go back to the bar to continue to try to romance the bartenderess. We’ve just about discussed all there is to discuss about Hoboken. Things are still going along pretty good, however, until our relationship sours when she denies me access to her MySpace page. Insulted, I head out into the cold and on to greener pastures, or at least to home.

MAKER’S. 405 THIRD AVENUE. NEW YORK. NY 10016. 212-7790306

I continue to walk South, and naturally come upon the Rodeo Bar. I stand for a minute looking at the posters of the acts who will be performing there. I must have spent a thousand nights here. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a beautiful woman standing in front of the music area door. She’s blond and has some sort of fur collar on her coat. She suddenly turns and goes inside. I go inside also.

The Rodeo was closed for awhile, and presumably changed hands, but everything is still the same, including the food and the entertainment policy. The side of the building facing 27th Street is glass, with the entrance on the corner. This is the restaurant half of the establishment, with restaurant seating and a bar area. Facing Third Avenue is a rustic wood-fronted facade and door which leads into the room with a second bar, fashioned out of some sort of trailer, and further to the back, the room where the bands play.

The woman I saw outside, of course, has disappeared. There are two empty stools near the front of the trailer bar. I take one and order a bottle of Bud. There is a cute, younger blond sitting at the very front stool of the bar. I strike up a conversation with this woman. She is nice, but standoffish. She appears to be drinking club soda. I notice that the big burley bartender starts to hover. She’s waiting for a female friend who’s a comedian. I get the feeling I’ve had this exact same conversation with this exact same person at this exact same place the years ago.

I start getting paranoid. I believe the bartender is giving the woman secret, meaningful looks. My paranoia increases when after awhile the friend of the woman I’m talking to appears and meaningfully touches her arm. I have the presence of mind to make my way down the steep treacherous stairs to the restroom before I leave. I make it to the bottom and find two other guys in the very small space. We maneuver around each other. I am carrying one of those expanding cardboard wallets I got from work. One of the guys refers to it as a “ briefcase, “ presumably think it out of place in this particular bar.

RODEO BAR. 375 THIRD AVENUE. NEW YORK. NY. 10016. WWW.RODEOBAR.COM

I’m finally on my way home. A few more blocks and across the street I see Elman’s ( café. ) Back in the 70s this corner location was a mob hangout called Sepret Tables. It was a regular Italian restaurant and bar. There was a long bar in the front room on the right, with some small tables on the left. In the rear was the restaurant proper. Since it was a real restaurant, you could order an espresso at the bar if you thought you had had too much to drink. Supposedly Frank Sinatra visited this place on occasion. This was said to be because he had a cousin from New Jersey who was associated in someway in this establishment. So a bunch of dangerous men sat in the front room of the restaurant half the night making deals, buying each other drinks, and waiting for Sinatra to appear. For some customers, when they got tired of waiting, the bartender gave the keys to their Cadillacs to a young guy standing by the door to go get their cars and bring them around to the door.

SEPRET TABLES. 340 THIRD AVENUE. NEW YORK, NY. 10010. CLOSED

I continue to walk. I cut over to Second Avenue. I’m finally getting nearer to home. At 19th Street, also on the corner, is the Gotham Animal Clinic. This was the former location of The Posh Place. The Posh Place was also a neighborhood Mob bar in the 70s - the golden age of Mob bars. It was later reported to be associated with the Bonanno Family. It did it’s best business from say about 2 am to 5:30 am - or later. That’s when the “ spending crowd “ came in. The Wiseguys would throw money around buying each other drinks and dance the Hustle with their girlfriends to Disco music from the jukebox.

It was a tiny corner spot with one front window. The bar was on the right as you entered and there were banquettes on the left and some tables in the middle of the room. On the left wall by the entrance was a black and white mural depicting the high life. In the rear was a coat check on the left and a small stage against a wall. Behind the wall were the restrooms, and unused kitchen and a pay phone. The pay phone was connected to a non-pay extension behind the bar. The public was supposed to use the pay phone, but you had to be careful to make sure that one of the “ guys “ wasn’t already using the bar phone extension when you picked up the pay phone extension; otherwise; well, let’s just say there could be problems.

The bar’s slogan, imprinted on it’s matchbooks was “ Please don’t shoot the bartender, he’s half shot already. “ I believe the nominal owners of the place were Buddy and Bobby. They generally hired bartenderesses rather than male bartenders. They drove Cadillacs. Name brand drinks were $1.75. Bobby ( or was it Buddy ? ) was sometimes forgetful; walking into the bar on occasion with the butt of his revolver sticking out of the pocket of his loud plaid sport jacket. There was also the good possibility that there was contraband hidden above the ceiling tiles.

The wiseguys weren’t above trying their schemes around the bar. On one occasion, one of the wiseguys tried to scam Patty, one of the bartenderesses, into taking $50 out of the register and bringing it to him. I was surprised that someone would try something like that, and she didn’t fall for it, but I guess as they say in the Donnie Brasco film; “ A score’s a score. “

Of course, the patrons weren’t exclusively wiseguys. A guy called “ Heineken with the salt “ ( he put salt in his Heineken ) seemed like a regular working guy, but you didn’t really know. Or as buddy put it; “ Strangers do come in here once in a while, you know. “

The jukebox played mostly disco; The Horse by Cliff Nobles, Misty Blue by Dorothy Moore, and, of course, lots of K.C. and the Sunshine Band. There were also the mandatory Luis Prima and Sinatra records.

In addition to Patty, there was a bartenderess who wore a halter top; and another bartenderess who lived in the neighborhood, and there must have been others. My favorite of the bartenderesses was known as “ The Hat. “ She, however, referred to herself as a “ mixologist. “ She was beautiful. I was in love with her. I kept my distance, however, because I knew two things. One, she had a boyfriend, and two, she would chew me up and spit me out in a minute. She had been living and working with wiseguys for years.

At one point during some random night I found myself sitting mid-bar. There was a guy sitting at the back end of the bar and there was another guy who was mostly looking out the window onto the dark and quiet street. I was half way through my drink and The Hat starts giving me the bums rush. She starts to say things like “ Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, “ and “ Have a good night. “ I must have had at least one drink before the one I was finishing and I’m confused, but I finish the drink and order another one. A little later The Hat Goes through the same routine, this time actually pushing the money I had on the bar towards me. Well, I reach my budget anyway, and eventually leave. The next time I come in The Hat chastises me. “ Don’t you know what was going on? “ she says. “ Huh? “ I say.

Well, the next day I get the story. It turns out that the guy at the window was one of the guys who always carried a gun. None of the guys regularly carried weapons, because it could get you into a lot of trouble, and, of course, you really didn’t need then EVERY day. But this guy apparently did. Also, there was this thing with the guy at the back of the bar. The Hat knew there was a possibility that there could be a confrontation between these two guys, although she didn’t say why. But she wanted to get the only civilian in the room - me - out of there. Fortunately for all concerned, nothing happened that night.

Another time I was sitting at my usual place at mid-bar and The Hat nods towards the back-end of the bar. There’s a couple sitting on the last two stools. Standing behind the bar - where customers aren’t permitted to stand - is a middle aged guy in a suit and tie. He’s facing the people sitting on the stools and has his hands resting on the bar, talking to them. “ That’s the BIG BOSS, “ The Hat says. I can tell The Hat is impressed. The Hat isn’t easily impressed - she has seen things that would make most people’s hair stand on end. But, she’s obviously impressed that THE BIG BOSS is here, now, in person, in the Posh Place.

The Hat refers to him by a name. It’s a generic American name, and I’m sure it’s not the name he was born with, but rather his “ other “ name. I am, of course, curious, but I keep my mouth shut. I thought is was better not to express any curiosity about what went on at the bar. But, here on one given night, The Hat and I, and a few other people were sitting in the same neighborhood bar as THE BIG BOSS.

Sometime after there started to be talk about the bar being sold. One night a young guy drove up to the bar in his Cadillac, and came into the empty bar with his girlfriend. He played the jukebox, asked The Hat what had happened to the after hours action that the place had been known for, and danced with his girlfriend in the empty bar.

Well, the Disco Era ended and the bar closed. Patty moved out of the SRO she was living in ( which is now a real hotel ) and disappeared. I don’t know if The Hat found another bar to work in. Some of the wiseguys who were in the bar business ended up with booths in the Canal Street jewelry market. I take one more look at the animal hospital and turn down tree-lined 19th Street towards home.

POSH PLACE. 329 SECOND AVENUE. NEW YORK, NY. 10003. CLOSED.

Vol. 2; No. 7 As Yet Unnamed / OTTO'S

2007-11-19T05:18:00.000-08:00

The LUSH LIFE by DONATO

THURSDAY

Leave work early. There is an " investigation " at the Bowling Green Lexington Avenue Line Subway stop and so there is no Brooklyn-bound service on the 4 or 5 trains. Fortunately I am going the other way. There are seats on the 4 train. A man comes in and sits down across from me. He’s an actual, genuine Wall Street type. The kind you almost never see on the Wall Street Subway stop, or on Wall Street itself, for that matter. A former co-worker said that when he got the job down here he thought he would be seeing the " movers and shakers " of the world on a daily basis. All he ended up seeing were tourists and office workers. The guy opposite me is wearing the classic uniform, and a real nice one, too. Navy blue, of course, with a fine pinstripe. Ordinarily, a white shirt would be preferred, but this blue-patterned button-down was a beauty. He also had on a reddish-lavender hued tie with an all-over pattern of squares, black socks, good black leather shoes, and a black bag. He was also just the right age, not too young and not too old. He even had a sun tan. He oozed success. There but for the grace of God.

TUESDAY

Nothing happened today. The street vendors didn’t come to work. In the middle of the day there was a fierce rainstorm downtown, and for a short while the sky turned absolutely black over the canyons of Wall Street. The New York Mets wore Police, Fire, and service agency caps during the game, and lost 13 to 5 to the Braves.

MONDAY

The $3.00 Guinness - same as it ever was. Awhile back I had passed DETOUR ( Vol. 1; No. 6 ) and found it to be closed, with a swarthy man inside diddling at a laptop. He told me that the place was being made into a restaurant and that the bar would be open later in the evening. I somehow assumed that it would be some exotic type of cuisine. I thought I would amble down 13th Street after work and check on the progress. I found the door wide open on this Indian Summer day and the old blackboard sign from Detour out front, still advertising a $3 beer Happy Hour. There is no other signage, The place looks exactly the same, but much nicer, clean and spiffied up. ( In fact, it still smells of paint. ) No clutter on the walls, and, of course, all the music junk gone. The bartender is talking to a guy who looks vaguely familiar, but who is standing there, not buying anything. I ask if the bar is open. It is. And Happy Hour is the same. A pint of any tap beer for $3.00. They don’t seem to have as many beers, but they have Guinness, Stella ( Naturally, ) and some others. Another guy, apparently already a regular comes in, sits down and orders. The standing guy leaves.

There’s a big pile of those Delancy Street cheap, large red-and-white, and blue-and-white plastic tote bags on the sidewalk filled with dirt and debris. It’s from the basement. The bartender had been telling the standing man that whoever was gong to take them away said that the weight of the bags was no problem; as long as the bags didn’t break, he could take them away. I notice through the window that one bag is broken. The bartender is talking with the other customer. They’re giving each other their complete life stories. The customer doesn’t stay long. He polishes off two pints ( and tells his complete life story ) and leaves. I ask the bartender what kind of restaurant it will be. He says neighborhood/American.

At 4:00 the World Series of Poker Main Event comes on the TV on ESPN-HD. Picture looks pretty good. This show, leading up to the final table, features Scotty Nguyen. At 4:30 Scotty eliminates Ray Henson , becoming one of only 11 players left in the event and in third chip position. Things are going well for Scotty - who we’re rooting for - although this is a taped event and the final outcome has been publicized. He now has 11,500,000 chips! Unfortunately, the situation soon changes and Scotty loses 8 million of those chips to Phil Hilm who shows a set of 5s. Soon after Scotty goes ALL IN against Hilm with a club flush draw and is eliminated in 11th place, only two before the final table number of nine.

While all this is happening, the standing man has come back and sits at the corner of the bar near the door, this time he orders. Almost immediately, another guy joins him. I get a bad deja vu premonition. The two are joined by another guy. Could it be? Is this the same ( expletive deleted ) trio that monopolized that front corner of the bar for all those years so long ago? While I gulp down my Guinness for a speedy exit, a woman comes in looking for a travel coffee mug she left there. She asks the bartender what the name of the place will be. He tells her it hasn’t actually been decided.

DETOUR. 349 EAST 13TH STREET NEW YORK, NY.10009.CLOSED
AS YET UNNAMED.349 EAST 13TH STREET, NEW YORK, NY. 10009

LUNCH: Candy-drive candy bar bought from a co-worker.
DINNER: Lightly breaded baked pork chop with baked Idaho potato.

MONDAY

I’m walking westbound on the south side of 14th Street approaching Avenue A. I see my dream woman walking towards me from the opposite direction. She’s definitely a woman, not a " girl. "She’s extremely well dressed, and not too tall. She’s wearing good black leather shoes, black slacks, and an expensive looking black overcoat, which, because of the unseasonably warm weather, is unbuttoned. Under the overcoat is a low-cut black blouse revealing her voluptuous cleavage. She has a beautiful face, and long , dark hair. On her left shoulder she is carrying an expensive shoulder bag. In her right hand she is holding, and drinking from, a open pint bottle in a brown paper bag.

FRIDAY

Indian Summer. At 10pm it’s too warm even to wear a light jacket. I walk over to 14th Street. An extremely light rain falls on and off. I’m going to meet someone at Otto’s Shrunken Head. Tonight is " Rebel Night. " It’s a Dj party featuring various music from the 50s and 60s, including Rockabilly. The thing that makes it special is that the Djs are Japanese! There are plenty of people walking about. I stand around outside for a bit finishing the stub of part of a left-over cigar. Some guys who I presume to be tonight’s hosts are patronizing Kennedy’s Fried Chicken next door to Otto’s. The drizzle continues. I take shelter under the awning of a shuttered store. Finally, I go inside. I’ve never been inside of this place before.

It’s a Tiki Bar, but evidently a modest one. Kind of a Dive Tiki Bar. Typical front room with the bar on the right. On the left where the bar ends there’s short corridor leading to the back room. There’s a pinball machine and a photo booth here. There are some attempts at tropical decorations and a list of exotic drinks posted behind the bar. The fancy drinks come in fancy mugs.You can buy the mug for $5. I’m not in the market so I don’t look to see how much the drinks are. I’m looking at the beer list on the wall and the beer taps. They have Newcastle and Brooklyn and others on draft. And they have Pabst on draft. That has to be cheap. It is, $3.00 a pint. There’s a lot of traffic back and forth, to and from, the back room. I go back and take a peek. The music is loud and people are dancing.

There seems to always be seats available at the front end of the bar, so you can go to the bathroom and still get a seat when you return. The crowd seems to be divided. The Japanese contingent seems to be hanging out in the back room, while the rockabilly and tiki bar fans and casual visitors seem to be mostly in the front room. I notice some people who appear to be club promoters checking the place out. After what seems like an eternity, I leave. Yeah, that’s right, my " date " never showed up. Wanna make something of it?

MONDAY

Behind the bar there was a sign promoting Happy Hour, so I go back to Otto’s to investigate. I remember the sign says " Happy Hour 11 to 8, Monday through Friday," and " two for one. " I take a seat in the middle of the bar, a few ( backless ) stools away from where I sat most of the night I was there. I again order a pint of Pabst not realizing that the sign actually says " two for one Bud and well. " That means not Pabst and bottles-only of Bud. It’s dark, but unfortunately the all-glass door and the east-most side window are uncovered and let in too-much light and an unappetizing view of a very large dumpster overflowing with garbage in front of the bar.

Without the nighttime crowd, the place looks much more like a dive bar than a tiki bar. The floor is cracked and torn, and so are the red banquets against the wall. There are four people there when I arrive. All regulars. Two young guys up front and a salt-and-pepper team of seventy-something women at the back. The guys are drinking beer ( 2 for 1Buds ) and the ladies are drinking different liquors on-the-rocks. Two more guys soon come in and sit up front. They’re also regulars. Two of them talk about another regular who is not there at present.

I walk up front to see what they have laying around by the front window. I can’t believe my eyes. They have copies of the New York Waste. Fall 2007 issue! I swear I haven’t seen this paper in 10 years. I used to pick it up in Doc Holliday’s. And it’s still the same! There’s the Graffiti of the Month; the pin-up photo; stuff about bars; Choice Cuts calendar of events, Starr Tucker cd reviews; Gary Gold column, and lots of picks of bands performing. And, as they say, much, much more.

I upgrade to a Bud to take advantage of the 2 for 1 deal and attempt to start a conversation with the bartendress to show I have a personality. I remark that there seem to be neither coasters nor napkins anywhere. She confirms this is so, although she can’t explain why. I demonstrate my wit by saying that this could be very bad, or very good if it meant that the place was very busy. She says she " heard " it was a good weekend. A guy comes in off the street and inquires about the overflowing dumpster. The bartenderess says it doesn’t belong to the bar, but has been reported to the city. The man leaves without explaining his interest.

OTTO’S SHRUNKEN HEAD. 538 EAST 14TH STREET, NEW YORK. NY.10009.WWW.OTTOSHRUNKENHEAD.COM.

FRIDAY

I’m losing interest in the book I’m reading when I have a surreal moment. I’m sitting in a bar and I’m all by myself. There’s no one else in the whole place. Nobody in the main room. Nobody in the back room. Nobody in the basement. And it’s cold. The color TV is on, but there’s no sound. Street sounds come in through the wide open front door. I zip my jacket up. Postmen and women pass buy pushing their mail carts. I go to the bathroom and return to my seat. I look at the TV. In a moment I come to my senses. There is, of course, no mystery. The bartenderess and the only other customer are outside somewhere smoking, although I can’t see them through the open door. They soon come back inside.

I return to my book. It’s Mangrove Squeeze by Laurence Shames ( Ballantine / DelRey/ Fawcett / Ivy.) I’m glad I didn’t toss it. In it I find the reason why a lot of people resist retirement; "...it only confirmed what Cherkassky had long known: that people, however whipped and humiliated and badly used, would come limping, crawling back to the life they knew, because being mortified, spat upon, was less appalling that the chore of finding a different life. "

vol. 2; no. 6 New York / Atlantic City 2007

2007-10-17T07:32:00.000-07:00

THE LUSH LIFE By DONATO

“ I used to visit the very gay places - those come what may places - where one relaxes on the axis - of the wheel of life - to get the feel of life - from jazz and cocktails... “ Billy Strayhorn

( Road Trip: Atlantic City)

WEDNESDAY

A chance for a ride to Atlantic City prompted me to call to see if I could get a last-minute room for Thursday at one of Harrah’s properties. To my surprise, I get a room at SHOWBOAT. When the ride didn’t develop, I was going to cancel, but, hey, why not a ROAD TRIP.

THURSDAY

The sports news this morning is that the Yankees clinched the wild card to gain access to the post season playoffs. I kind of get the notion of the “ wild card, “ but I’m not completely sure how it works exactly. There are 10 people standing in line at 7 in the morning, a full hour before the Academy bus leaves. I am one of these idiots. Signs all over the place announce a $1 price increase in the Atlantic City bus fare as of October 1.

I arrive at Caesars and look around. It doesn’t appear to have changed much, except for the second floor overpass connection to The Pier Shops at Caesars. I leave and walk East ( Northeast ? ) towards my first destination, my favorite bar in Atlantic City, the Poseidon Bar & Grill. I begin to reminisce as I walk. There’s nothing like sitting at the bar at 3 am with twenty other zombies staring at five TVs all showing the same anti auto theft infomercial. I approach S. Indiana Avenue where they are busy tearing down the Sands. I get to the next corner - Martin Luther King Blvd. - where the bar is, and I stare in amazement. The same chain-link fence that protects the Sands lot has also wrapped itself around the Poseidon. I can’t believe it. The Poseidon is closed. A sign on the door says; “ after 30 years. “ Somebody described the Poseidon as a diner inside, and I guess it was, but it was set up like a bar, with a long bar on your left as you entered and an eating area in the back and one to the right of the bar separated by a partition and some booths. The kitchen was adjacent to the back room on the right, with a take out window in the hallway leading to the restrooms. It was open all night and served breakfast, lunch and dinner. The atmosphere changed over the years, but it was always interesting. When I first started going there, it attracted a lot of casino workers in uniforms after their shifts and had drink specials for the various casinos.

Around the time of my last visits there a few years ago, it started getting a huge last night crowd. On one of my last visits in the wee hours of the morning, both dinning rooms were completely full and it was three deep at the bar. Unfortunately it was this popularity that forced the Poseidon to discontinue it’s 24 hour policy and start to close at 11 or 12. Apparently there was a problem with the type of clientele it attracted in the small hours of the morning. Otherwise, evenings had sports on the TVs to watch, and the days were quiet and laid back. One afternoon a nice uniformed police lady came in and arrested some poor soul sitting two stools down from me.

I linger around for awhile and stop in the newsstand/cigar store across the street and purchase two of there least expensive ( cheapest ) cigars; Alcazar # 1 ( maduro. ) This turns out to be more or less unnecessary, because, just like every place else, you can’t smoke in any of the bars and restaurants in Atlantic City, as well as most of the casino areas.

Dejected, I continue down Pacific Avenue to my next stop, CROCTAILS TAVERN. When I first went there it had a different name, like “ so-and-so’s. “ I believe it was an Italian name. It was apparently just an old neighborhood bar. A bartendress later told me that the bar had started to attract a bad ( drug ) element and the change was a move towards gentrification and an attempt to attract a yuppie clientele. There was a new sign, T-shirts, and a backyard with fancy umbrellas.

I arrive shortly after 11am. I am the only one there. They no longer serve lunch, which used to be an awfully good draw, as there was always a bunch of construction workers at lunchtime. A sign says the kitchen is under new management - but the hours are 12 Midnight to 5am! Another disappointment as I had planned to have lunch there. In the past it was good and very inexpensive. The bartendress denies it, but somehow I get the feeling the whole place is under new management - at least since the last time I was there. The T-shirts are gone, but there’s a display of bottle beers on a counter behind the bar with little signs with prices on them. They have Tappeto Volante for $3.50, Miller Genuine Draft and Pacifico for $2.50, and that new Miller Chill and something else for $3.00. There is also a strange sign on the door about “ VIP Members, “ and, of course, there’s now NO Smoking. One thing that’s still the same - and in the daytime you can count on it - Jerry Springer is on at least one of the TVs. And the cigarette machine is still there, the top of which functions as a display for free tourist publications.

Another reason I thought the place might have changed hands, was because there used to be a guy around every day, who I took to be the owner, who was always micro-managing the bar. A real hands-on guy, he made the only bartendress on duty bring him, one at a time, every liquor bottle in the bar, which he then weighed on some sort of special scale, to determine an exact inventory and scientifically determine how much liquor had been dispensed.

As soon as I get my draft the bartendress proceeds to the farthest end of the bar and begins multi-tasking; ignoring me, talking on her cell phone, and reading a take-out menu. All at the same time! I have one more and leave very disappointed. I walk over to Showboat. The Pacific Avenue entrance is somewhat of a mess with some improvements going on. I walk down the long bus hallway and when I finally get to the lobby I think I’m in the wrong place. It looks like a geriatrics ward. I fight my way through the walkers and wheelchairs to the very nice front desk. The room is nice with basically the same view I always get. This one overlooks the parking garage. It does have a very nice bathroom, however, with counter sink and the water closet in a small separate room with a door.

After admiring the room for a while and checking the limited programing on the TV, ( every channel seems to have news or soaps on, ) I head out to the boardwalk to take a walk and see what kind of cigars I bought. As I exit the boardwalk entrance of Showboat, a woman comes up to me an asks me where the Showboat ( hotel/casino ) is. I tell her it’s right here. I then take a few steps forward and turn around to see why she asked. There’s a huge sign proclaiming the structure to be the House of Blues. As an afterthought, there is a much smaller add-on to the sign on the bottom and to the right which does shay “ Showboat. “ The mystery is revealed later when I go back inside. Most of the casino is the same old Showboat starting from the Pacific Avenue Side. The boardwalk side of the main floor, however has been converted into the “ House of Blues Casino at Showboat. “

I take a walk. It’s cloudy. There are homeless people and cats living under the boardwalk. I remember the Steel Horse Saloon. I thought it had gone out of business the last time I was here, but I thought I would check out the place. There’s a new name on the front. I walk up the ramp leading to the entrance and try to look in, but the glass is mirrored. As I walk back down the door opens and a lady peeks out. She is friendly. Apparently they have taken over the space a few months ago and have completely re-done the inside. They plan to be open shortly as a restaurant and bar. I continue on. Pat’s King of Steaks on Atlantic Avenue has gone out of business. A good crowd of homeless have taken up residence on it’s patio. There’s a brief summer rain shower as I walk back to the casino.

Back at the Showboat, I compare the two sides of this split personality casino. Showboat is very bright, and surprisingly crowded. You can her Aretha Franklin on the PA and even Little Richard’s “ Good Golly Miss Molly. “ The House of Blues casino has more subdued lighting and is less crowded, and the bar in the center of the casino seems also to have benefitted from this. I make a half-hearted attempt to make a proper contribution to the casino’s coffers, but my heart isn’t in it. After some food at the Hard Rock Café at the Taj, I call it a night.

POSEIDON BAR & GRILL. 1700 PACIFIC AVENUE. ATLANTIC CITY. NJ. 08401 ( CLOSED )

CROCTAILS TAVERN. 20 S. VIRGINIA AVENUE. ATLANTIC CITY. NJ. 08401

STEEL HORSE SALOON. 20 S. PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. ATLANTIC CITY, NY. 08401. ( CLOSED )

LUNCH: NONE ( Croctails no longer serves lunch. )

DINNER: Big fat messy burger ( the top one on the menu ) at The Hard Rock Café.

( The Long Good ) FRIDAY

After a good night’s sleep I am anxious to return home. I check out at the deserted front desk and walk West ( Southwest? ) back on Pacific Avenue. As I pass, the lights on the Taj signs along the avenue go out. I have to walk back just past Caesars to catch an early bus at Trump Plaza. I get a few more blocks and a normal looking guy dressed nicely in slacks and a sport shirt walks towards me coming from the opposite direction. As he gets about 10 yards in front of me he says to me; “ You’re in the wrong neighborhood. “ He keeps walking towards me and when he gets next to me he repeats; “ You’re in the wrong neighborhood, “ and then continues past me without saying anything else.

I remember there’s a 24 hour bar across from the Trump Plaza bus depot. It’s called DeFeo’s Café. The bartendresses will later describe it as a “ shots and beer bar. “ It has to have been well over ten years since I’ve been there, but I’m happy to see that it’s still there, exactly the same as it was and still open 24 hours. It’s a room with a circular bar ( no backs on the stools ) with raised areas in the back and to the right with tables. The area on the right also has a pool table and a separated area for the restrooms. There’s only one guy in the place when I enter. He’s on the left side of the bar, the bartendress is sitting on a stool at the back of the circle. She greets me cheerfully as I come in as if she’s glad to see me. “You’ll have to keep me awake. “ she says. I take up a seat on the right. The other guy is having, yes, a shot and a beer. He’s wearing a black shirt and black pants. He appears to be cross-eyed. There is no draft beer. I order Bud. Safter serving me, the bartendress asks the other guy to go outside with her for a smoke.

When they return, the other guy takes money out of the ATM machine and plays the juke box. He’s talkative, and probably slightly annoyed that someone else has come in the bar. Soon we’re joined by another talkative guy who sits on the same side of the bar as the other guy and orders a White Russian. The bartendress asks him what’s in it. She is has just recently graduated bartenders school, after having worked in a bakery. He tells her what’s in the drink. She makes it for him and he pronounces it to be excellent. He orders a Heineken as a chaser. The tab for the two drinks comes to about 10 bucks.

I like it here. I want to stay. I order another beer. I am sociable. I join in the general conversation. The bartendress goes off on a customer from earlier in the day/night ( her shift is 1am to 9am.) who was obsessing about wanting a Philly Cheesesteak. I ask her about Pat’s King of Steaks being closed. She seems unaware of this. The White Russian guy seeks help from the bartendress locating phone numbers for pizza places and car services. A discussion about the merits of the various pizza places in the are ensues. The anagram EHT is mentioned several times. I take this to be Egg Harbor Township, as one of the exits on the highway is Egg Harbor.

Three large flat screen TVs line the upper walls on both sides of the bar. They’re playing music videos. I think one artist that the bartenderess and the White Russian guy both like is someone called Enya. The bartendress comes over to me on her side of the bar, plops both elbows down on the bar and asks me how I’m doing. Obviously I’m not used to such attention. Not being able to think up anything else to say I ask her a stupid question about the automatic pour-er she used to make the White Russian. Evidently this ingenious device not only measures the exact amount of one shot of liquid, but also rings it up on the register! The bartendress says that a customer told her that every bar in Utah has these!

Later on something even more extraordinary happens. The bartenderess comes around to the customer’s side of the bar and sits down next to me at the bar and begins a conversation. Well, of course I now absolutely want to stay here. But I have a problem - two problems. The bus is going to leave soon and the bartenderess is going off shift at 9am. I’ve been checking my watch since I’ve been here since the digital clock on the back wall thinks it’s September 28, 1986, and ten minutes fast at that! I’m heartbroken, but I force myself to leave. There’s only a small group of people waiting on line. The bus comes, loads up, and even leaves early.

We arrive back at the Port Authority in good time. The gate is right by the Ninth Avenue in the South Building. I leave via the 41st Street exit. As I enter into the daylight I look across the street at a vision of loveliness. I can’t believe my eyes. There, standing in front of Port 41 is a woman smoking cigarette and wearing a bikini! I have returned to heaven.

PORT 41. Vol. 1, No.s 3, 8 and 10. / Vol. 2, No. 2.

Vol.2 No.5 2007 Biddy Early's/Crocodile Lounge

2007-10-02T08:45:00.000-07:00

THE LUSH LIFE by DONATO

“ I used to visit the very gay places - those come what may places - where one relaxes on the axis - of the wheel of life - to get the feel of life - from jazz and cocktails... “ Billy Strayhorn

vol. 2 / no. 5 New York 2007 ( Biddy Early’s; Crocodile Lounge )

THURSDAY

The Dog Days. Fortunately a doctor’s appointment provides an excuse to leave work early - and check out an important new find; ANOTHER BAR THAT OPENS AT 8AM! It’s called BIDDY EARLY’S I find it on the North side of Murray Street. The outer door leads to a foyer with some postcards and some junk and then an inner door leading to the bar room. Outside its bright, bright sunshine and 86 degrees; inside its nice and cool and really, really dark, and it doesn’t seem to get any brighter the longer you’re there. Three very large ceiling fans cool the front bar room and the rear dining room and the blades of the fan up front seem in danger of scraping against the walls of the narrow room. It’s a typical pub, everything seems very old - it looks as if it’s been there forever. There appear to be about 20 beers on tap. A display case on the bar features the bar’s own brand of “ Biddy’s Bull. “

I take up a position in the middle of the bar. There’s one customer up at the front end of the bar and a fat man at the back end, who I assume to be part of the management because of the way he is relating to the bartendress. It’s about 11am. The fat man has the bartendress order something for him from one of the busboys. It soon arrives and apparently is a large plate of something covered in melted cheese. Vodka and cranberry is $4.00. The customer at the front of the bar walks all the way to the back of the bar to say goodbye to the bartendress and the fat guy before he leaves. The bartendress suddenly goes into a dancing jag to the music of New York 106.7 which has been playing over the PA system. It’s 11:30am. Soon it’s time for the construction guys to start drifting in. Two sit down a few stools away from me. They’re literally dripping with sweat. The guy nearest me is huge. His arms are as big as oak trees. They order beers but the bartendress also begins to prepare a second special drink for them. I guess I don’t see all the steps, but she fills the metal half of a cocktail shaker with ice and also I see her squirting something into it from the soft drink gun. I think she is making some of those special shots that are popular for obtaining a quick buzz ( I guess. ) this turns out not to be the case. She is actually making - and apparently does so for all her construction clientele - her special Ice Water. After shaking vigorously she served it up in a pint glass. It’s “ amazingly cold “ according to one customer. Well, I would like to stay, but it’s time for me to leave for my appointment. Walking outside it’s like a blast furnace. The sun beats down and trucks and subway gratings pour more heat into the air. I duck into one of the nice old office buildings on Broadway.

After my appointment I think about going to J & R Music World, but instead hop on the Third Avenue Bus and head uptown. I get to 14th Street in time for lunch at the CROCODILE LOUNGE, the bar with the free pizza. When I went here the first time ( The Lush Life Vol.1, No.9, ) I found out about the free pizza, but I assumed it was a slice of pizza. Actually, what you get is a whole, individual-size pie, with a basket of condiments an napkins. Pies are plain cheese, but you can order toppings at a small surcharge. AND you can get a free pie every time you order a drink? Of course, you’d have to have some appitite.

I follow up on the Seattle connection I noticed the first time I was here. Apparently the owner and at least one of the staff relocated here from Seattle, Washington, planning to open a coffee house. Somehow the crocodile thing took over and this is what we have now. It’s not a sports bar ( there are only 2 TVs, ) just some crocodile’s on the ceiling over the bar - and the free pizza.

Copies of The Stranger, a Village Voice / New York Press free paper of Seattle are still available by the window. I flip through a copy. Seattle really looks cool. I also really like the paper much better than the New York papers I’ve been picking up for a hundred years. But, of course, the grass is always greener. Top city news story is “ Nightlife Crackdown Back in Play, “ and further back a story on the “ The Mayor’s Five Most Violent Nightclubs in Seattle. “ Naturally there’s a million ads for things to do at night.“ ultimate pornstar “ Jenna Jameson is performing someplace live for ONE NIGHT ONLY! They also have ale houses, “ coffee and chat “ places, tattoo parlors, pubs, live music venues, taverns, a “cocktail club, “ supper clubs, bars, cabarets, and even a “ café and cardroom. “ Well, just like here, I guess; except for the “ cardroom. “ They even have places that have Happy Hours and specials like $2 Tall Boys, $1 Hamms, and$3 Sauza Shots. I’ve got to move there. Curious thing, though. There isn’t one photo of anyone over the age of 30 anywhere in the paper. Do you think it’s like in that move, when you reach 30 they...nah, can’t be.

I am at my usual position at the middle-right of the bar and am just into my first drink when suddenly; THIS IS MY LUCKY DAY! A very attractive woman comes in and sits down two stools away from me. She orders one of the bartendresses’ special Whisky Sours. She asks the bartendress about one of the bouncers who works there. She sits there quietly for a little while, then orders a JAGGERMEISTER! I strike up a conversation, but I have to work at it. ( It just never seems to get any easier. ) She suddenly announces to the empty bar that she wants to go to Atlantic City - Today! She only has $100 but she is determined to get on a bus at Port Authority as soon as she leaves here. I see an opportunity here; a topic I know a little about. I tell her about the comps I get. I tell her that with one day’s notice I can go to Atlantic City any weekday. Then she says she was recently in Las Vegas. I, of course, tell her I was also; which, in fact, is true. She then complains that when there she couldn’t get any guys to show any interest in her. I, naturally, say that this would be difficult for me to believe; given how attractive she is. ( Believe me, this is my best stuff. )

Things are starting to improve, in fact, things are now going along pretty good. Then, suddenly, my whole world comes crashing down around me. The door opens and in blows a 22 year old blond, curly haired adonis. Definitely not from around here. He comes in and sits down around the short “ L “ corner at the front of the bar. He orders a beer and tells the bartendress he is “here “ ( from we don’t know where ) to audition for an off-Broadway show. My now former love of my life has contained herself for the three minutes this guy’s been in here, but as soon as the bartendress moves away she is on him like a fan after Barry Bond’s 756th home run baseball. She orders him to come sit next to her. I am now but a faint memory. I concentrate on my drinking. Soon she orders her third Jaggermeyster and some sort of “ mystery shot “ that the Adonis has come up with which he says was served at some bar he was at. Now Atlantic City is also forgotten. They drink. They eat pizza. Now and then she takes him outside, apparently so he can watch her smoke cigarettes. I continue drinking and reading a sentence or two from the book I’m carrying. Mercifully, they finally leave. The bar starts to fill up with the early after work crowd.

BIDDY EARLY’S. 43 MURRY ST. NEW YORK.NY. WWW.BIDDYEARLYSPUB.COM

CROCODILE LOUNGE. 325 E. 14TH STREET. NEW YORK. NY.

LUNCH: Free Pizza at Crocodile.

DINNER: Same.

Vol. 2; No. 4 2007 Boss Tweeds/Motor City

2007-10-02T08:11:00.000-07:00

THE LUSH LIFE by DONATO

“ I used to visit the very gay places - those come what may places - where one relaxes on the axis - of the wheel of life - to get the feel of life - from jazz and cocktails... “ Billy Strayhorn

vol. 2 / no. 4 New York 2007

( Bos Tweeds ; Motor City)

WEDNESDAY

Hazy sun and muggy. Going to make it a two part happy hour today. First stop was to be that bar at the foot or Orchard Street, but its open front doesn’t look very inviting today, especially with a gang of Chinese engaged in a huge loading - or unloading - project directly in front of it. So I start of mosy around to look for someplace else. I find myself Delancy. There’s that big pizza place on the corner of Essex Street. Better get a slice before Happy Hour. Inside there’s a pizza man, a couple sitting across from him apparently waiting fo a slice, two women further down with a baby carriage, further in the back, a male cashier and a woman sitting next to him. All are making believe they are not sitting in a long un-airconditioned store with only an open double door at the front to allow in any air - if there was any - which there isn’t. The temperature must be 115. Well, I go along with the gag and order a slice. I’m in and out in a few minutes, but the others are still there when I leave and in fact are joined by another woman with another baby carriage. I cross the street to get into the shade and look around as I eat my slice. There’s a place that looks inviting, and it has a Happy Hour blackboard out front.

It’s Boss Tweed’s Saloon. It’s nice and clean and new-looking inside. Dark wood floors and tin ceiling painted dark brown. Not much happening here. There are three guys sitting by the window and two others at the bar. One guy is fussing around trying to attach a dart board to some sort of machine up front. The bartendress will cheerfully answers direct questions, but she seems to just be waiting to go home. The best thing about this place seems to be that it opens pretty early, so if you get there at four or earlier there already open, unlike the other bar next door which at 4:30 still doesn’t have its gate fully open. Boss Tweed’s Happy Hour is $3 beers and mixed drinks. There’s also a can-of-beer-and-shot special. There’s actually two different signs advertising it. One says a can of Bud and a shot of Jack Daniels for $5. The other also says the price is $5, but says the liquor is Jim Beam and the Bud is in a “ retro “ can. I ask about this, as apparently does everyone else who comes in the door. The bartendress only knows that there was a different Bud can that was served, but that was before her time ,and since they no longer have them available, she doesn’t know what was different about it.

Time to head over to our next stop, MOTOR CITY. Wednesday is a special Happy Hour presided over by Juke Box Jodi making her famous “Wet Panties “ cocktail; a raspberry-and- ginger margarita made with fresh raspberries and fresh ginger. There served in a huge margarita glass and there two-for-one at Happy Hour. Jodi is a bartendress, disc jockey, singer, retro-fashion guru, rockabilly fan, and very attractive, although married, woman. She’s probably also a lot of other things I don’t know about. As a result she draws to Motor City a varied and hip crowd of musicians, rockabilly fans, decked-out fashion cuties, other disc jockeys, neighborhood barflies, and those just in search of a good Happy hour. Naturally I’m the first to arrive. Customers here do not like to get up early. I receive a warm greeting and soon am wrestling with my first enormous margarita. People begin to drift in. A couple comes in, sits at the bar and also orders the Wet Panties. An attractive petite woman comes in, but sits at a table by the window rather than at the bar and plays with her cell phone. I look past her out the window and see it is getting dark. Suddenly it begins to rain. Another attractive woman comes rushing in in a fancy red-and-white outfit. She stands over on my side of the bar and waves her skirt around, trying to dry it. There comes a great downpour outside, and inside the air conditioner starts to spit water at us. I compliment the recent arrival on her dress as we move back away from the air conditioner. The rain seems to be good for business, as more patrons start to arrive. A guy who looks like an extra from the movie “ Barfly “ comes in an begins a long circular conversation with Jodi then begins to wander around the room. The red-and-white lady says something to me and this guy then literally stands directly between us and tries to inject himself into the conversation. He then starts to ask everyone if they have a pen. Getting one from Jodi, he begins to draw “charactatures of the bar’s patrons on cocktail napkins and scraps of paper. The red-and-white lady is joined by her equally fashionable girlfriend. And they move to the other side of the bar. The downpour had long since ended and it was now only raining lightly on-and-off. Jodi moped up the water from the air conditioner herself in spite of many offers to help. The guy doing the “ drawings “ taps me on the shoulder and shows me what he says in a picture of me. I let out a yelp when I see it. He looks at me then looks at the drawing and then back to me again. “ It’s a charactature. “ he says. The petite woman who was sitting by the window had come to the bar for a fresh beer and revealed that she was from Austailia, and now decides to relocate to a seat at the bar. She is moving to a spot right between me and the couple drinking margaritas. She squeezes into the space, but before she does so, she maneuvers her chair so that she it sitting sideways at the bar facing the couple, and with her back directly facing me. For some reason this woman from Australia and this couple seem to have a lot to talk about. Jodi and some of the customers decide to order some gourmet, hand-crafted, boutique pizza from the newly-opened gourmet, hand-crafted, boutique pizza place down the street.

BOSS TWEED’S SALOON.115 ESSEX ST. NEW YORK. NY 10002. WWW.BOSSTWEEDS.COM

MOTOR CITY BAR. 127 LUDLOW ST.NEW YORK, NY. 10002. 212-358-1595

Vol. 2; No. 3 Jersey City / White Plains

2007-09-14T07:50:00.000-07:00

THE LUSH LIFE by DONATO

“ I used to visit the very gay places - those come what may places - where one relaxes on the axis - of the wheel of life - to get the feel of life - from jazz and cocktails... “ Billy Strayhorn

vol. 2 / no. 3 New York 2007

( Jersey City ; White Plains )

FRIDAY

I’m going to meet someone in Jersey City so I leave work early and walk to the World Trade Center stop of the PATH train. Down two levels and down a third to the actual platform. Still a bargain at $1.50. On the train I realize I have no pen.

I get off the Hoboken-bound ( Blue Line on your map ) train at the Pavonia/Newport stop. I’ve never been here before. This is “ Newport, “ or the “ Newport Center Mall. “ When you first emerge from the PATH tunnel there’s a convenient map. I check the location of the meeting place. When I walk to adjacent Pavonia Avenue, I can’t believe it. They’ve taken a chunk of New Jersey by the Hudson and malled it. It doesn’t look real at all. It looks like a giant movie set. Everything is nicely landscaped and manicured. And look at those people. Those two office-type guys walking with their just-purchased Starbucks coffee. They must be extras from central casting, not to mention the cute Asian girl carrying the large bag of take-out, or the multi-cultural group of young office workers returning from lunch. They’re all going through the paces an unseen second unit director has laid out for them. There’s even a cab driver leaning against the look of his cab waiting for a fare. It’s amazingly realistic.

I head back to the map. I need fortification. There’s Dorrian’s on the map. It says “ Pub. “ That should do it. It’s a short walk to the northwest across a street with simulated car traffic. Although It doesn’t say “ Red Hand, “ this is an outpost of the original Dorrian;s on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. “ Since 1960, “ it’s matchbook says. It’s really nice, clean and new-looking. A big front room for dinning and a large bar area in back. Just enough television sets, and even an Irish bartendress. You might expect more patrons for a Friday lunch hour, but there are just enough extras to make the place look active. There are seven or eight of us at the bar. Two young guys near me order lunch. One gets a really nice looking steak. Vodka and Cranberry is $5.00.

After my appointment it’s back to the PATH, this time heading in the direction of 33rd Street. I get off the Christopher Street stop. Too lazy to walk, I take the Eighth Street crosstown bus. When I get to First Avenue and start to walk north, I realize I have to go to the bathroom. I see that Coyote Ugly is open. I was here once before at “ Happy Hour. “ There is a slight stench as you enter, but not one millionth as bad as the West Side location of the old Village Idiot. The place looks a lot smaller than I remember it. There’s a bartendress, a couple at the far end of the bar, another guy and me. I’m pretty sure I have less that $10 in my pocket. I can’t believe it when I’m charged $6.00 for a vodka cranberry, but it was worth it to relieve myself. The guy who is by himself is a friendly chap. He points to the racket hanging on the wall, one used in Jai-Alai. He asks the bartendress and myself if we know what it’s called. We don’t He tells us. I forget what he said, but I suppose he said the correct name. I later look it us. It’s called a “ cesta. “ The bartendress wants me and the guy to “ do shots. “ I tell her it’s kind of early. The idea kind of lays there. She is more successful with another blatant promotion to the Jai-Alai guy. She tells him she is wearing “ day-of-the-week “ underwear, and will bet him a shot that he cannot guess which day she is wearing today. As an inducement, she improves his odds by telling him that she’s not wearing today’s date. They bet. She then turns around, lifts up her skirt and shows him her ass and the panty of the day. I find myself turned off by these schemes to get customers to spend more and believe it or not, I don’t even look at her ass. I quickly finish what is left of my drink and walk the rest of the way home.

DORRIAN’S. 555 WASHINGTON BLVD. JERSEY CITY. NJ. 201-626-6660

COYOTE UGLY. 153 FIRST AVENUE. NEW YORK, NY. 10003 WWW.COYOTEUGLYSALOON.COM.

WEDNESDAY

Another train adventure. This one up Metro North’s Harlem Line to White Plains. Again, I’ve never been there before. The city is exceptionally quiet this July 4th morning. Bus up to a rather peaceful Grand Central Station and get a much too early train, which also turns out to be an express. The hole left by the conductor’s punch looks like the Chevrolet emblem. This time I do have a pen and other supplies in my trusty FLOMO - the 99 cent see-through zipper pouch to hold a book and such stuff - it’s also good for jury duty.

I arrive at the White Plains station. I’m hours early. I’m looking around guessing where the center of town is. I finally figure out that it’s north-east of the station. Main Street appears to be mostly all new, but as I head north I see some of the original town buildings still standing. I am curious about what lies ahead, but for some reason I stop at what I perceive to be the epicenter of White Plains, the intersection of Mamaroneck Avenue and Main Street .I notice the traffic lights beep as one approaches each corner. Time for coffee. I sit outside on the patio of Starbucks and look across the street at the still-being-completed “ Residences ® at the Ritz-Carlton, Westchester. “ It’s 70% and overcast. I look around. The whole area is extremely chic and well-manicured. All except for the people walking around. They look like a bunch of lower and lower-middle class dumbos. Do they live here? Finally I see att least one person who looks like she belongs in this posh section of Westchester County. She comes and sits on the patio, dressed in appropriate yuppie attire, skirt, sweater, boating loafers. Her hair is dyed blond with highlights. She sips her Starbucks coffee and reads the New York Times. I check for dandruff on my navy blazer with American Flag pin.

I decide to take another spin around the area. The bars I had passed didn’t open until lunchtime, but in the back of my mind I knew that there had to be an old bar somewhere that opened at a more reasonable ( early ) hour. On this counter-clockwise circuit around the block I find it by accident. Hidden one block behind Main Street , and with it’s name partially obscured by a tree, is Paddy Tighe’s Tavern. And sure enough, it’s open. An old fashioned bar that mush have been at least partially re-modeled. Once in the entrance there are two doors, one to the dining room to the left, and one to the bar on the right. The bar area is paneled in knotty pine. The back of the bar itself is one of the old wood ones with decorative plastic detailing with lights behind them. There are only two TVs. The bartendress is telling one of the two other customer that she didn’t open up today until 10. A Vodka-Cranberry is $3.50. The place seems ok, except that the chairs, although they do have backs on them, aren’t really that comfortable. The other two guys at the bar discuss the fatal flaw of being a backyard vegetable gardener. It seems that the entire crop ripens at the same time and one is stuck with hundreds of pounds of turnips-or whatever. One of the gardeners leaves. Everything is going along ok until the remaining other customer asks the bartendress to put something on the tv. I can’t believe it. It’s a F*ing hunting show! Fortunately the other places must be opening their eyes about now so I quickly finish my drink and leave.

I go to Applebee’s Neighborhood Grill & Bar which I had seen before. They are just opening for the day. I am their first customer, although another lone man comes in and sits at a table for lunch a few minutes later. I’ve never been in one of these before. It’s pretty darn big and there’s a ton of memorabilia on the walls. It’s interesting that although they have these things all over, the stuff on the walls has been chosen to be specific to each area. Here there is a uniform from the White Plains Fire Department and a sports jersey that says “ Purchase “ on it. They have a fancy cocktail menu, which I notice too late, and all kinds of food including steak. The menu’s have a picture of that guy from the Food Channel on them. A Vodka-Cranberry here is $6.50, but it’s served in a pint glass and made with the top-shelf Vodka of your choice. Also, being a chain, they charge tax on drinks; add 51 cents tax and it’s $7.01. Apparently aware that bars in the city are crowded with construction workers during the day, Applebee’s offers an array of Hardhat Specials. I think it might have been $5.99 or $6.99; something like that, and included a pint of domestic beer or fountain beverage. Well, I would love to stay here, have lunch and try some of those specialty cocktails, but it’s time to run my errand and then get back to civilization.

Mission accomplished, and so ends our adventure in the land of the rich and famous. It’s a long walk back to the train station and there’s a slight rain, but it soon stops. I have to wait twenty minutes or more for the train back to the city, but when it comes it turns out to be another express, stopping only at 12th Street before arriving at Grand Central Station. No matter what the trip, I always have the same feeling when I return and the train pulls into the station. I’m always feel like jumping out of the car and kissing the ground.

PADDY TIGUE’S TAVERN. 174 MARTINE AVENUE. WHITE PLAINS, NY. 10601. 914-684-9405.

APPLEBEE’S NEIGHBORHOOD GRILL & BAR. 27 MAMARONECK AVENUE. WHITE PLAINS. NY. 10601. WWW.APPLEBEESNY.COM

Vol. 2; No. 2 2007 Algonquin Hotel / K2 Lounge

2007-06-14T07:39:00.000-07:00

vol. 2 / no. 2 New York 2007

( The Algonquin Hotel; K2 Lounge )

FRIDAY

The birthday jaggernaut rolls on. It’s a nasty raw day after an early morning rain. I’ve got on the all-purpose day-wear outfit of blazer, slacks and red striped dress shirt protected by olive green London Fog. Work a half day and head uptown. I’d better fortify myself in case any cocktails happen to be served today. Subway up to the 99c pizza stall at 41st Street and Ninth Avenue. Not a pizza shop, and certainly not a pizza “ parlor. “ There’s no entrance for customers to even go inside, just two pizza windows through which a full line of slices and whole pies are served. It may even be open 24 hours, but I didn’t ask.

So, here we are, a bunch of people standing around on the sidewalk eating pizza as a slight mist falls. ( I’m the only one wearing a London Fog. ) Well, we’re just across the street from Port 41 (Vol.1,No.3; Vol.1,No.8; Vol.1,No.10) might as well see what’s been happening since our last visit. Hay, who’s in charge here? The gigantic red booths on the right side of the room - so big you could sleep comfortably - have displaced the skeetball machine which has been pushed to the read side wall, blocking some sort of light-up poster and pat of the entrance to the back room. The front room pool table is gone. A trio at one end of the bar re-enacts an entire Gico commercial; the one which features the goat who keeps saying “ Naa, na, na. “ Enough of this. Time to head east for the first of two dates this evening.( What? )

Walk east to the rendezvous. It’s the outragously famous and historic Algonquin Hotel. ( This is what happens when you let your date pick the meeting place. ) The lobby is incredibly well-arranged for the amount of space there is. We take the unguided tour. Across from the reception desk, an opening leads into the living-room like Lobby Lounge. Directly in the rear is the restaurant, the Round Table Room, where there’s a centered round table with a shrine in back of it celebrating, well you-know-what. The centerpiece of the shrine is a painting; “ A Vicious Circle, “ by Natalie Ascencios. Back to the lounge. On the opposite end of the room from the reception area is the entrance to the famed Oak Room. Here I had the pleasure of seeing Andrea Marcovicci perform, and were she still performs. Back through the lobby to the front-west part of the hotel we pass through a small alcove into the very cozy Blue Bar, which fronts onto the street and features Al Hirschfield drawings.

Back through the alcove to settle in to a comfy corner. They have two cocktail menus, one of “ Classic” cocktails and one of Specialty “ cocktails. All are $15. They all look worth a try, but I settle on a “ Brandy Crusta. “ which the menu says originated in 1850s Paris. It’s Hennessy VS Cognac, squeeze of lemon and orange, Cointreau, and Angostura bitters. It’s served in kind of a tulip-shaped glass with sugar around the rim. Delicious. I could drink a ton of these. Too bad the glass isn’t bigger. On the way out we pass what I guess is the official cat of the Algonquin, overseeing the check-ins at the front desk. The weather seems to be getting slightly better. Subway downtown for part two of the evening.

Naturally I’m early so I look around and the only place nearby is one on Seventh Avenue. It used to be a dive bar, but now it serves food and has delusions of grandeur. I know this because they charge $6 for a vodla cranberry made with Popov vodka and cranberry juice from a can! They also serve that Stella Artois beer which you can’t seem to get away from, and they serve it in the official Stella Artois gold-rimmed glasses! The correct time from Time Warner Cable on the tv over the bar says it”s 7:05. Time to kill before my next rendezvous. I order another drink. I normally wouldn’t pay these prices, but heck, we’re celebrating.

Down the block to my second date of the evening at the K2 Lounge. This is a fantastic concept, a cocktail lounge inside a museum. The museum is the Rubin Museum of Art, apparently a museum devoted to the art and culture of Tibet. I won’t say to much about the Museum or the K2 Lounge because I DON’T WANT ANYBODY TO FIND OUT ABOUT IT ( THEM. ) I will mention the spectacular cocktail I had, one of three “ High Elevation Cock2tails “ on their list. It was the Pomegrante Martini made with vodka, Pama liqueur and blood orange, peach, passion fruit liqueur - I don’t know if that’s all one thing or three things. The garnish is a soft yellow fruit thing. Delicious. Well, that’s more than enough birthday for one year.

99 CENT FRESH PIZZA. Corner of 41st Street and Ninth Avenue. New York, NY. 10036

ALGONQUIN HOTEL. 59 West. 44th Street. New York, New York. 10036. www.algonquinhotel.com

K2 LOUNGE. In the RUBIN MUSEUM OF ART. 150 West 17th Street. New York, NY. 10011.www.rmanyc.org.

Lunch: 99c fresh pizza, eaten on the sidewalk

( LATE ) DINNER: More pizza.

Vol. 2; No. 1 2007 Bentley Hotel / Johnny's Bar

2007-06-14T07:25:00.000-07:00

THE LUSH LIFE by DONATO

VOL. 2 / NO. 1 New York 2007 ( The Bently Hotel; Johnny’s Bar )

WEDNESDAY

Leave work and head home to get ready for my big blind date. I walk from the subway and as I get to First Avenue, two women cross in front of me walking uptown. I get upstairs and change from my usual Ed Norton outfit into something presentable. All dressed up in blazer and slacks and raincoat I’m on the First Avenue Bus heading uptown to the Bentley Hotel. As the bus passed 56th Street I happen to glance out the window and see the same two ladies I saw on 20th Street, still walking uptown. I loose sight of them at 57th Street.

From the outside, the Bentley is just a functional box off York Avenue, squeezed in between a gas station and the Animal Medical Center. Inside, the lobby is kind of nice. There’s a small waiting lounge, a front desk and a concierge. I ride the elevator to the 21st floor to my date at the rooftop bar. An atrium was build on the roof to house a restaurant and bar. The restaurant area is in the middle of the room, with the bar to the right ( north ) as you come off the elevator. The atrium doesn’t cover the whole roof, so there’s a door and you can go outside and walk around two sides of the hotel. In the light the room is kind of sparce and cold, but I’m told the effect changes when it gets dark and the candles are lit and the lights of the city come up. Still, it’s not the bar in Lost in Translation by a long shot. The minimalist bar had shelves and there’s a mini tv between a the bottles of top shelf liquor, and a BIG coffee machine. There’s an upright piano pushed up against the partition separating the rest rooms from the bar area. At the south end of the room you get a great view of the trams going and coming from Roosevelt Island. It’s 7:20 and it’s still light out. I feel exposed and unromantic.

At first I am the only customer at the bar with one other guy sitting on the sofas on the opposite end of the room. From time to time hotel guests pop out of the elevators to walk around and look at the view and pop back down again. One or two other people come to the bar. A guy at the opposite end of the bar is talking to the two bartenders who seem both to be on duty for no apparent reason, and the hostess. He appears to be a guest, but is dressed like your typical dive bar customer. He is drinking red wine with milk chasers dispensed from a gallon jug. I’m on my second $10 cosmo from the specialty cocktail list. The hostess looks at me from time to time. When she greeted me when I came in I made the mistake of telling her I was meeting someone. Naturally the hostess is a tall blond European. And, of course, my date doesn’t show up. Waiting for the elevator to go down, the hostess expresses sympathy. I had noticed earlier in the evening that in addition to being the hostess she also had to work room service. I told her she should be getting double pay. I get a little laugh and a nice smile. We ride down and she turns and smiles again when she get out at her floor with her room service cart.

I walk up to Second Avenue to catch the bus. A light mist starts to fall so I don’t look like a jerk in my raincoat. It’s finally dark. At the bus stop a limo from New Jersey pulls up and parks at the front of the stop. I look in the window of the limo and in the middle of the dashboard is a computer screen. It looks as big as the one I had at work before I got the slightly bigger flat-panel screen. The driver gets out of the limo and looks up at the side of the building. I ask him if he can get on the internet on that thing. He says he can. A few more puffs on a cigar stub and the bus comes.

BENTLEY HOTEL. 500 E. 62ND St., New York, NY 10021. 212-644-6000 www.bentleyhotelnewyork.com

DINNER: Take-out pizza

FRIDAY

A walk in the West Village. So this is what it’s like to be out at 10 o’clock at night. It’s been awhile. Actually it’s not much different than in the daytime, except it’s dark and there are more people in the bars. Lots of people hanging out in front of the restaurants around Union Square. Past Xavier High School and bear south-by-southwest. Walk down Hudson Street to get a Starbucks. Have to wait while a woman from France with two little kids spends $20. I use the restroom and burn my mouth on the hot black coffee, but I don’t sue. Reverse direction and head back to the White Horse, the meeting place. The whole corner is totally packed. A combo with a tuba plays on the street. I stand propped against a parking meter observing the scene. A vision in a bright red dress emerges from the White Horse. The activity of the other patrons and waiters become a blur around her.

I meet my date an we walk East on Bank Street to what passes for a Dive Bar in Greenwich Village. It’s Johnny’s Bar on Greenwich Avenue, and most do consider it to be a Dive Bar and if you don’t count the Corner Bistro, it’s probably the only one. It’s a beautiful night. The door and the front ( “ pizza “ ) window are open. We stay near the front of the room to get the breeze and grab two stools with faux leopard skin seats. We’re against the wall, but soon score two other stools at the front most corner of the bar. This is a narrow room, kind of cozy. It reminds me a lot of the original Sophie’s. We remark that there is a very un-Dive Bar-like crowd here tonight. I guess they’re those people that used to be referred to as yuppies. And they’re all so Big! There’s no old skell sitting in the corner of this bar yelling “ Shake the hand that shook the world “ every 15 minutes.

We are talking an I have one eyeball on my date and the other on the bartendress. She’s unbelievable. I’ve only bought one round from her, but she’s treating me great. When we relocate to the bar she rushes over and removes five empty pint glasses that have accumulated on the corner of the bar. She’s also beautiful; blond and wearing a nice summer dress the shows off her figure. I fall in love. I then start plotting to dispose of my date and run off with the bartendress; and I don’t even know her name. The second round is club soda. My companion ordered one first and I did also, maintaining my best behavior and not wanting to appear to be addicted to drink. We hang around a little while longer. I can’t believe the bartendress. She refills my club soda like 10 times.

We leave and head down Seventh Avenue past the Village Vanguard and head on over to Grove Street past the famous three sisters; three cabarets that seem to have been around forever; Rose’s Turn, Arthur’s Tavern and Marie’s Crisis. I might have been inside Rose’s Turn once, but never in the other two. We walk to Bedford Street. I look around for Chumley’s. I was there once, a hundred years. It’s probably even harder to find now since the building next door collapsed and there’s scaffalding all over the place.

Goodnights are said and I walk over to Bleecker, and up Sixth to Eight Street just as the bus comes. Well, I got to take it. I get off at first and across the street is another place I haven’t visited in years; Stromboli Pizza. There’s a ton of people around this corner of the East Village. I go in and order a slice. The guy ahead of me is eating and talking to his girlfriend. The guy behind the counter calls him to pick up his like $8 change. They customer doesn’t hear. They guy calls a few more times then leaves the money on the counter. After a while the guy and the girl start to leave and after calling after him once again, finally has to practically chase him out of the store to give him his change. The pizza doesn’t taste as cheezy as I remember it, but maybe I haven’t had enough to drink. All the blocks are crowded as I walk north. As I pass Coyote Ugly I can see a woman dancing on the bar through the window. I reach 15th Street and the sidewalks finally empty. Ah, peach and quiet.

Johnny's Bar. 90 Greenwich Ave New York, NY. 10011-7744. (212) 741-5279.

Stromboli Pizza. 83 St. Marks Place, New York, NY 10003. (212) 673-3691

DINNER: Pork cutlets breaded on one side and cole slaw

MIDNIGHT SNACK: Slice of Pizza at Stromboli’s.

VOL 1 / NO 2 / 2006 Finnerty's; Jeremy's

2007-05-17T11:17:00.000-07:00

THE LUSH LIFE by DONATO

“ I used to visit the very gay places - those come what may places - where one relaxes on the axis - of the wheel of life - to get the feel of life - from jazz and cocktails... “ Billy Strayhorn

THURSDAY

Looking out of the office window at 8:30 am watching the construction guys working in the rain. I’m thinking I shouldn’t be here now. I should be in Finnerty’s. Of course, I don’t think that would be possible because it doesn’t open - or used to not open until 12 noon. In any case, we’re lucky to have Finnerty’s at all. The bar, a few steps down on the north side of 3rd Avenue between 13th & 14th Streets ( next to the historic, but nevertheless demolished Variety Theater ) lost its space due to parcel clearing. Fortunately it found a new home in approximately the same location a block away on 2nd Avenue in the former home of the Dan Lynch blues bar. I don’t remember ( well, we do drink to forget - don’t we ) if Dan Lynch was a dive bar that became a blues bar or if it started it’ life that way. I do recall it was owned by two Lynch brothers, and I guess one of them was Dan. A great place to go for music any time including weekend afternoon jam sessions. It was always packed on weekends which was good for the musicians who passed the tip jar. George Worthmore was a master at tip jar passing ( in addition to being a master of the guitar and a terrific entertainer who mastered a bunch of musical styles ) during his marathon sets which never ended until the clock actually struck 4am. Robert Ross and the Holmes Brothers also played regularly.

Well, here I am. I made it to Finnerty’s. The rain has stopped. The new Finnerty’s is almost exactly like the old Finnerty’s - “ except bigger “ the bartendress points out. It is also reversed. Sitting at the bar one is now facing north instead of south. There is the unique architectural feature of two support poles that tend to slice off a portion of the room and - with the help of a railing - separated the audience from the performers in the Dan Lynch days. And good news! I am informed that the bar opens at 11:30am instead of 12 noon as I thought. When I first went to the old Finnerty’s I couldn’t believe it. It was a barflies dream - a bar that sold $2 pints of beer and ( I was told ) was owned and operated by stewardesses! I don’t know what the story is now about the stewardesses, but they still have $2 pint beer. They also have a special which consists of a PBR tall boy and a shot of “ whisky “ for $5. All in all I find the old place much more cozy than the new place. The fact that it’s bigger detracts from the ambiance. The ceiling here is very high and it’s much brighter. Also is was kind of nice sitting a few steps down below street level.

Finnerty’s also has matches on the bar AND business cards! Green business Cards! Turns out the official name of the joint is Finnerty’s Irish Pub.

LUNCH: That was it.

DINNER: Leftover roast chicken breast with a large spinach salad from packaged spinach - purchased from a street vendor on Ninth Avenue - with bottled dressing.

FINNERTY’S IRISH PUB. 221 2ND AVENUE. NEW YORK. NY. 10003.

DAN LYNCH. 221 2nd AVENUE. NEW YORK. NY. 10003. CLOSED 199?

FRIDAY

NY1 leads off at 6am with it’s top news story. A warning from the FDA that packaged spinach may be responsible for an E.Coli outbreak!

Looking forward to Friday afternoon and had a lot on the to-do list. But the persistent rain dampened my enthusiasm. So I went directly back home to the neighborhood, picking up some fine Boulaine products to have handy as mixers. Stopped to look at the shuttered front of a neighborhood bar. Went home.

DINNER. Left over roast chicken. What - again? You can roast 2 three-pound chickens at a time in one regular size pan and you could probably do two pans at one time if you wanted to. Romaine salad. Fresh - NO BAGS!

SATURDAY

Downtown again? Don’t I spend enough time down here? Well, one must shop and here is where this particular store is. Well, it opens at 10. I have a few minutes. I’ll take a walk around the corner. Here’s a place. Turns out it doesn’t open until 11:30. Unfortunately I had to go all the way downstairs to find that out. This is no great loss as I don’t really like being in a basement. Back around the block and the store is open and I get what I came for. It turns out that after the rain we have a beautiful day. Here’s an idea. How about taking a walk over by the Seaport. Jeremy’s Ale House will be open. And it is.

Looks smaller than in the pictures. The guy behind the bar tells me they don’t serve food until 11:30 and that thhey moved from their original location about 2 ½ years ago. As I remember that place a block away on Front Street was bigger and had a back, or rather a side yard. This one’s a few steps up.The front opens up and there‘s a small patio. The main decorative element seems to be brassiers hung on the walls and ceiling. Aside from the help I’m the only one in the place. I watch Yankees Classics on Yes. Yankees - Mets, June 14, 2002. Mets are up 2 to 1 in the top of the eights. Front street seems to be made up of restored historic Seaport buildings with apartments full of yuppies - or whatever they call them now. The radio suddenly goes on playing classic disco. A guy walks by with a head band, a gym bag and a lacrosse stick. Another guy takes his six year old son for a ride on his Italian motor scooter. Yankees tie in the 9th. Robin Ventura hist 2 run homer in 10th. Yankees win 4 to 2. In present - day baseball news Jim Kaat retires after 50 years as a player and broadcaster.

DINNER. Hand made tuna cake and hand-chopped coleslaw with apple cider vinegar. Tyler Florence on the food channel suggest spicing things up with dijon mustard, lemon juice and even apples, but I’m too lazy to try it. Oddly, though, he uses cole slaw mix from a bag!

JEREMY’S ALE HOUSE. 228 FRONT STREET. NEW YORK. NY. 10038. OCCUPANCY 110. JEREMYSALEHOUSE.COM

VOL 1 / NO 1 - 2006 Schiller's Liquor Bar/Nell's

2007-05-17T10:28:00.000-07:00

THE LUSH LIFE by DONATO

“ I used to visit the very gay places - those come what may places - where one relaxes on the axis - of the wheel of life - to get the feel of life - from jazz and cocktails... “ Billy Strayhorn

THURSDAY

Since this past Monday was a holiday I thought I would work a full day Friday instead of leaving early as I had been doing.

FRIDAY

Woke up and realized that working all day would not be a good idea. Went to work. Checked time sheet. Put in request to leave early.

I didn’t realize we were approaching the anniversary of 9/11. Even after those guys hanging out in the street in front of the Fulton Street subway stop at 7am were deep in conversation about it. “ I’m going to stay inside. I don’t want to know nothing about it. I don’t want to watch it. I don’t want to listen to it. “ When I got to work a young woman told me about the anniversary. She actually didn’t work here then, but is taking the day off anyway because of security concerns. I support her decision. Here, diagonally across Liberty Park from the site. I remembered looking out the window that day, a window facing north to a plaza in front of a Broadway building and seeing the paper falling from the sky. People walking, looking down an the paper starting to litter the plaza, and then looking up.

Headed out to PEARL PAINT. Who said good help is hard to find. At this five or six story art/craft/graphic supermarket I asked a cashier - yes, a cashier where to find a kind of plastic cover thing to put a small poster in - because I’m too cheap to buy a frame - and after asking a question or two she told me EXACTLY where to put my hands on the EXACT thing I wanted. “ ...walk due west...proceed through the archway...go six paces...turn right...go eight paces..reach out right hand...” And there, I had it. Eleven dollars and change; twelve and change with tax. I was out on the street within ten minutes, all told.

This is the beautiful day we didn’t have all summer. Hot, bright. Canal Street was awash with people. Now to take a walk home via the now super chic Lower East Side. Get off Canal and go via the side streets. Through Chinatown, and Little Italy, go east, east, east and north, north, north. Cross Delancy at Essex and go east again and north again. I didn’t see SCHILLER’S LIQUOR BAR at first, because I was standing right in front of it with my back to it, looking around and scratching my head. It should be right here! Well, it was.

This retro-style corner apparently put together from antique tiles and fixtures serves it’s brunch customers a cocktail called a Pimm’s Cup. It’s made with Pimm’s No. 1, a gin-based liquor and basically lemon and lime flavoring. I thought I’d try one. The bartender offered that one could just mix it with lemon & lime soda. Here, it’s kind of fancy. With cucumber slices, mint and I think Cointreau. It’s kind of brownish and looks like it has seaweed floating in it. But it tastes good. In fact, a perfect daytime. Hot weather drink. ( Like Campari & Soda. ) They have lots of other specialty cocktails too. All are priced at $10.00. Now, the lounge lizards of the Lower East Side don’t blink at a $10.00 cocktail, but where I come from $10.00 is $10.00. Actually, where I come from, $10.00 is more like $100.00. Another one? Not at those prices. And, oh, yes, they charge tax. $10.84 with tax. In this case it happened to be well worth it. A Pimm’s Cup on a beautiful day with the ceiling fans spinning and the windows opened on to the Lower East Side. Also a candidate for Best Men’s Room of the year.

PEARL PAINT. 308 CANAL STREET. NEW YORK. NY. 10013.WWW.PEARLPAINT.COM

SCHILLER’S LIQUOR BAR. 131 RIVINGTON STREET. NEW YORK. NY. 10002.WWW.SCHILLERSNY.COM.

SATURDAY

Since you can’t smoke in bars anymore, I guess it doesn’t make sense for management to make available matches on the bar top, but in a place on 14th street there was a container full of colorful matches that said NELLS - no apostrophe - just NELLS. There was the famous NELL’S at the same address. A chic disco. Was it the 80s? Owned by a famous English model (?) with the velvet rope, etc. It had two floors. The ground-level floor was a fancy restaurant-lounge arrangement with a bar and place for live music. Downstairs was the disco. If I was there it must have been well past its prime. I seem to remember a young french guy at the bar with a black woman .Smoking cigarettes and looking for trouble. They had a musicians’ jam night upstairs for a while. Downstairs models were sitting around waiting to get their picture taken. NELL’S eventually went out of business and NELLS took over at the same location. The internet now says that “ Nells night club closed it’s doors in June of 2004. “

LUNCH. Subway “ Play of the Day. “ Saturday is six inch BBQ rib sandwich. Well, it’s baseball season, and they do advertise on the baseball games.

DINNER. Chicken with Cajun spices and hand-chopped coleslaw with apple cider vinegar. Monster cabbage from the Union Square Farmers’ Market; big and as heavy as a bowling ball.

NELL’S. 246 WEST 14TH STREET. NEW YORK. NY. 10011. CLOSED 199?

NELLS. 246 WEST 14TH STREET. NEW YORK. NY. 10011. WWW.NELLS.COM. CLOSED 2004