Jeff and I walked down to Los Tules, last night, and got some delicious Mexican food among a crowd of First Friday goers. The service was a little slow(except bringing and processing our check), but that's to be expected, I guess. After settling up, we walked a couple hundred more yards down the hill to Jilly's, where the $2 beers were flowing nicely. Shortly after we sat down, Erik joined us, and watched the DJs, who turned out to be friends of friends, set up their gear, and start playing some really excellent house music.
Jason and Matt joined us for a while, but went to meet a friend over at the Cashew, where we weren't particularly hot to go, especially on First Friday. So, we walked down the hill to Southwest Boulevard, with a mind to sit outside at La Bodega, only to be told that despite the fact that there were three completely empty, made-up tables, there was a half-hour wait for any of them. We went across the street to some Mexican bar, where a bunch of neighborhood 40- and 50-somethings were dancing to a DJ playing pseudo-banda music. We grabbed some gigantic Pale Ales, grabbed a table, and saw that the Royals had, yet again, won a game. They embarrassed Toronto 13-3, with five insult runs in the final innings.
We walked out of there and remarked, as we passed under the I-35 overpass, the kee-kee sounds of countless bats, and walked around the incredible piles of their guano, and the droppings of their pigeon brethren. Around West Pennway, Jeff ran off to commit indecent exposure in a cool, dark place, and told Erik and me that he'd catch us up.
To Erik's intense frustration, the Cashew(where we were now going. sigh) was several blocks away, over even, level gound. We arrived, and had to get in line just to enter the bar. After the two of us entered, the bouncer had to stop people coming in, as they were apparently at capacity. Capacity, at the Cashew, is a lot of people. We wrestled our way to the bar, got some $5 beers, and went upstairs. We stood by the open-air windows, and watched the drunken bargoers driving in and out of the area.
While we were there, I received official word that Jeff would not be rejoining us. It was my turn to buy drinks, so I suggested that we move on, this time to Bulldog, over on Main, a short walk away. We walked in the back door, and found the back room to be silly with available tables, so we availed ourselves of one, and ordered a couple of $4 beers, in larger glasses than at the Cashew. In addition, the scenery was excellent, we both agreed.
After finishing our beers, we crossed the street to a place I went once, a couple years ago, that used to be called Danny's Big Easy, a New Orleans-style jazz bar. Now, it's called Daddy's, and it didn't occur to me what that might mean, until we walked inside. Now, I don't mind gay bars, but this place was very, very gay. We politely used the lack of Boulevard on tap as an excuse to leave, and as we walked away Erik, a native of Texas, very vocally expressed his discomfort, combined with his desire to kick me in the balls.
We walked over to the Screenland Theater for a quick drink, and called it a night. It was fun.
You sure you havent been in Daddys before
10:34 PM, Jul 8, 2006