You can see it from the street. An opening amongst the buildings. Like a square. People. Suited, booted, with glasses of alcoholic beverages in at least one hand. Men. After work. Having a tipple. You cross the puddly swarm accumulating out front, step through the doors, and the second doors, and pause. The buzz is near-deafening. There are men everywhere, talking, drinking, talking more loudly, laughing, gasping, cheering. Making your way to the bar, when you're a woman, is surprisingly unchallenging. Somehow the crowd parts, like the sea did for Moses, or in a less impressive but equally efficient way. You can order quickly, even if it's just a glass of water. And, as you turn around, you notice you're surrounded by men in suits, some of which may even contemplate offering you the pleasure of their company in exchange for a drink. (or is it the pleasure of a drink in exchange for their company? I never know)
I cannot vouch for food, nor menu, or seats, or anything else. All I can say is that this particular city bar is full of city boys. And that's a good start to any weekend, now isn't it? read more