THE PATRIOT SALOON

When I was in college, there was almost nothing I enjoyed more than filling out teacher evaluations.  In real life, I've found that the opportunity to jam my opinions down the public's throat is sadly rare.  Or at least I thought it was until I discovered Yelp.  You can read my reviews here.  My latest is of the Patriot Saloon. 

 

The Patriot Saloon 

Yes, I am giving the Patriot Saloon 1 star.  Why, you ask?  Well, I'll tell you why - without editorializing or exaggeration either.  Here is a play by play of the evening:

5:00PM Wednesday Afternoon: Not very crowded.  I'm waiting for a beer at the bar downstairs.  There are two bartenders - one working up a furry at the opposite end of the bar, and one staring into a mirror, watching herself repeatedly put on and take off a pair of aviator sunglasses.  There's a crowd forming around the busy bartender, so I figure I'll have a better chance waiting in one of the many empty stools at the other end.  I mean, Sunglasses has got to notice me at some point, right?

5:10PM: Sunglasses has not noticed me.

5:15PM: My friends are texting me from the upstairs bar wondering where I am. I tell them that I'm still working on getting a beer.  My first beer.  Finally Sunglasses notices me.  She walks over, and mutters something. I say  "I'm sorry?" She mutters it again and smiles, and then kind of falls over a little bit.  I assume she asked me what I was drinking, so I tell her a Bud Light.  She frowns.  She gets really quiet.  And then she lifts her hand above her head and SLAMS it into the bar, screaming in gibberish.  She then turns around, and crumples up into a ball.  She does not get me a beer.

5:20PM: Sunglasses is still standing motionless in a ball like formation - so I give up and decide to try the upstairs bar.  My friends had warned me it was a shit show - but I can't imagine it's worse than what I just witnessed.  

5:21PM: It is worse.  Much worse.  The bar is more crowded upstairs - all older skeez balls watching the scantily clad bartender bounce up and down around the bar.  She is most likely old enough to be my mother, assuming she had her first child when she was 13 - which is when I'm assuming she had her first of many children.  She is clearly high, and for all of the bouncing she's doing, she's not pouring very many drinks.  In fact, I watch her for 10 minutes and she opens not one bottle.  Instead, she is draped over the bar, licking her lips at an older gentleman.  Everyone seems happy but me.  No one is drinking.

5:45PM: I'm outside, getting a breath of fresh air.  I am contemplating leaving - except for the fact that I haven't even had a chance to say hi to my friends yet.  I instead tweet about my sadness, take a deep breath, and walk in with new determination to get a DAMN BEER!

6:00PM: I have three beers in my hand.  I have ordered three so that I do not have to go through the experience of ordering a drink from this bar ever again.  The busy bartender is apparently busy because she's the only one in this awful place who is concerned with the sale of alcohol (and also not high on quaaludes).  

6:05PM: I have drank my three beers and I'm in a much better mood.  As I stand there, my friend grabs me to warn me about the shirtless waitress carrying a large tray of beers behind me.  The following interaction takes place;

Friend: Chris, watch out - there's a bra coming up behind you.
Waitress Only Wearing a Bar: I AM NOT JUST A BRA! I AM A LADY!

The End. 

Actual picture from the Patriot's Website of Jiggles, the upstairs barkeep. In this photo, she is asking the photographer if he knows what this funny contraption is.