Today's post will have to be somewhat brief, since my laptop charger has been emitting foreboding crackling sounds and literally began smoking up just a few minutes ago. On the bright side, if my stove burners give out I have found an alternate source of fire.
Allow me to regale the events of last weekend in a segment titled
The Dive Bar Diaries
It all started when my two friends came up to LA Friday night to visit. One goes to school in Whittier, the other used to go to school in Whittier but moved back to Fresno, and was in town for Whittier Homecoming Weekend (to sum that whole event up in ten words or less: friends, beer). We decided to meet up with Macy in Los Feliz to go check out some bars, because that's what you do on Friday nights in LA. We had heard good things about a place called Ye Rustic Inn that was walking distance from Macy's apartment, so the four of us mobbed on over.
The inside was cool looking; a typical dive-bar-with-ambiance that I might describe as what a billiard room would look like if it was below the deck of an old wooden ship. However, the ambiance was virtually the only thing this place had going for itself. We got food which was underwhelming and overpriced, our server (as well as the one who took over after she left) was a negligent, unsmiley little hipster bitch who didn't feel the need to be nice to us at all because we weren't hipster dudes who would be easily distracted by the bit of ass cheek hanging out of her high-waisted shorts. In addition to just sort of being a snobby and inattentive server, she misquoted the prices of our drinks, so by the time we got the bill we were all floored by the amount we had to pay. Oh, and get this. They had a policy that charged an automatic 18% gratuity on all parties of 2 or more.
I know. I KNOW.
Now as a disclaimer, I'm not usually the customer who complains. I don't know how to handle confrontation, so 9 times out of 10 I'll just quietly chew on my burnt hamburger with spit gobs in it and tell myself that the waiter is probably just having a bad day. But these bitches committed too grave an injustice for me to take it sitting down. Which I was at the time. I'll put up with your awful service, but that means by the end of the night you shouldn't be asking for any favors. Hell, these chicks weren't even asking-- they acted like it was the Law of Ye Rustic Inn that all customers had to pay this ridiculous 18% gratuity. So I timidly spoke up and told our server that we were misquoted drink prices, that we weren't happy with the service in general, and that we didn't want to leave a tip we felt they hadn't earned. Instead of feigning concern or at the very least apologizing, Miss Snobby Hipster said she couldn't do anything about it other than talk to the manager. When she came back she said she couldn't change the bill but she could give us complimentary shots.
Look, bitch, I don't want your booze. I want my bar experience back. Of course, little did the four of us know that legally they can't actually force us to pay the 18% gratuity, but I guess the waitress was pretty safe in assuming that none of us were lawyers. We very begrudgingly accepted the shots, even more begrudgingly paid, and begrudgingly left, but not before I begrudgingly stole the salt and pepper shaker off the table and stashed them in my purse. It was more a private symbolic act of disdain than anything else, but hey, that's 20 cents that Ye Rustic Inn will have to shell out of their high-waisted shorts pockets.
Thoroughly perturbed by our unsuccessful dive bar endeavor, we decided to console ourselves with food from a bomb little taco stand down the street called Macho's Tacos. We sat out on the patio area and bitterly ate our tacos. We salt-and-peppered the chips with the shakers I had taken, which prompted the owner of Macho's to come over to talk to us and ask where they had come from. He was a very laid back and-- dare I say it-- attractive single dad who sympathized with our shitty evening when we told him. So from there, not only did he give us complimentary chips and guac as well as the names of a couple other good bars in the area, but he said there was a great place called Dresden right around the corner, he had a good friend who worked there, and she could hook us up with drinks. Rather than give us time to mull the matter over, he said he was going to go bring her tacos now and that we could meet him there.
BOOSH!
So we hit up Dresden, and he was there, and he got us free dranks, and we hung out, and it was most excellent times. Dresden is a very chic speakeasy sort of themed bar, with a live band plucking out tunes like "Minnie the Moocher" and, praise be to Jesus, super friendly bartenders. It completely 180'd the evening, we found a new favorite spot, and we got our buzz on fo' free. In so many words: Hooray for Dresden! And by extension Macho's Tacos!
My laptop battery is now at 5%, meaning this will be my only anecdote. So long, farewell, until I blog again.
Allow me to regale the events of last weekend in a segment titled
The Dive Bar Diaries
It all started when my two friends came up to LA Friday night to visit. One goes to school in Whittier, the other used to go to school in Whittier but moved back to Fresno, and was in town for Whittier Homecoming Weekend (to sum that whole event up in ten words or less: friends, beer). We decided to meet up with Macy in Los Feliz to go check out some bars, because that's what you do on Friday nights in LA. We had heard good things about a place called Ye Rustic Inn that was walking distance from Macy's apartment, so the four of us mobbed on over.
The inside was cool looking; a typical dive-bar-with-ambiance that I might describe as what a billiard room would look like if it was below the deck of an old wooden ship. However, the ambiance was virtually the only thing this place had going for itself. We got food which was underwhelming and overpriced, our server (as well as the one who took over after she left) was a negligent, unsmiley little hipster bitch who didn't feel the need to be nice to us at all because we weren't hipster dudes who would be easily distracted by the bit of ass cheek hanging out of her high-waisted shorts. In addition to just sort of being a snobby and inattentive server, she misquoted the prices of our drinks, so by the time we got the bill we were all floored by the amount we had to pay. Oh, and get this. They had a policy that charged an automatic 18% gratuity on all parties of 2 or more.
I know. I KNOW.
Now as a disclaimer, I'm not usually the customer who complains. I don't know how to handle confrontation, so 9 times out of 10 I'll just quietly chew on my burnt hamburger with spit gobs in it and tell myself that the waiter is probably just having a bad day. But these bitches committed too grave an injustice for me to take it sitting down. Which I was at the time. I'll put up with your awful service, but that means by the end of the night you shouldn't be asking for any favors. Hell, these chicks weren't even asking-- they acted like it was the Law of Ye Rustic Inn that all customers had to pay this ridiculous 18% gratuity. So I timidly spoke up and told our server that we were misquoted drink prices, that we weren't happy with the service in general, and that we didn't want to leave a tip we felt they hadn't earned. Instead of feigning concern or at the very least apologizing, Miss Snobby Hipster said she couldn't do anything about it other than talk to the manager. When she came back she said she couldn't change the bill but she could give us complimentary shots.
 |
| I've got your goddamn shots right here. |
Thoroughly perturbed by our unsuccessful dive bar endeavor, we decided to console ourselves with food from a bomb little taco stand down the street called Macho's Tacos. We sat out on the patio area and bitterly ate our tacos. We salt-and-peppered the chips with the shakers I had taken, which prompted the owner of Macho's to come over to talk to us and ask where they had come from. He was a very laid back and-- dare I say it-- attractive single dad who sympathized with our shitty evening when we told him. So from there, not only did he give us complimentary chips and guac as well as the names of a couple other good bars in the area, but he said there was a great place called Dresden right around the corner, he had a good friend who worked there, and she could hook us up with drinks. Rather than give us time to mull the matter over, he said he was going to go bring her tacos now and that we could meet him there.
BOOSH!
So we hit up Dresden, and he was there, and he got us free dranks, and we hung out, and it was most excellent times. Dresden is a very chic speakeasy sort of themed bar, with a live band plucking out tunes like "Minnie the Moocher" and, praise be to Jesus, super friendly bartenders. It completely 180'd the evening, we found a new favorite spot, and we got our buzz on fo' free. In so many words: Hooray for Dresden! And by extension Macho's Tacos!
My laptop battery is now at 5%, meaning this will be my only anecdote. So long, farewell, until I blog again.
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