Now, we've heard about studies that say hangovers cost a workplace an ungodly amount of money in decreased productivity, and we're living proof of this. If we weren't so fucking tired, we'd be a little more productive in tracking down this study and citing the exact statistic. Instead, we'd rather laze about and make up theories of our own, such as: Thursday is the new Friday. (OK, this isn't really news, but we just like saying "X is the new Y" about random things.) Thanks to the abundance of cheap drink specials on Thursday nights, many people have made taking advantage of said deals a ritual to kick off the weekend early.
So, when we heard that America's Pub -- or, as a coworker calls it, America's Pube, -- serves up dollar drinks on Thursdays along with a side dish of crowd skeeziness, well ... we didn't exactly rush right over. This typical dancetorium is replete with flashing strobe lights, a sticky floor and disgusting bathrooms. On the plus side, though, it's cheap; there's a $6 cover, and most mixed drinks and domestic beer bottles (patriotic!) are a buck. But at what price? Possibly our souls, our self-respect, our sanity, but we decided to find out and gathered a large group of Research Assistants, all of whom were AP virgins. And, of course, anytime you go out with a lively group of eight, good times ensue.
We arrived after 11, and since the bar was conveniently near the door, we liquored up with 100-cent vodka cranberries, which were decent sizewise and tastewise. The place was relatively empty, so we were amused by the tableau made by the dance floor's only occupants: two women grinding away, laden with balloon flowers, hats and corsages. Off to the side was Dan the Balloon Man, twisting another flower. The crowd steadily grew, though, and soon the sunken dance floor held a sea of people writhing against each other while a Vanilla Icesque MC in a sideways baseball cap presided over everyone. The lemminglike crowd cheered loudly every time he gave away Red, White & Boom tickets or pointed out that some desperate guy just wanted to get laid.
"I've never been to a bar that pushed sex as much as this one," RA Nick said. Appropriately enough, we soon spotted a chick wearing a "Brunettes do it better" T-shirt. It turned out that Kristin, 21, and her friend Kina, 22, went there "every day" -- Thursdays to Saturdays, that is.
"So, do brunettes really do it better?" we asked.
"Well, don't you think so?" Kina asked in reply. "Look at the three of us," she said, including the NR in the brunette tribe. "We're cute."
Naturally, talk turned to guys. "I like 'em tall, white and fine," said Kina, an African-American beauty who was showing lots of her, uh, upper-mammarian structure. "She likes short, black and fine," she said of her white friend.
"I do not!" Kristin said, protesting the "short" part. "I do like black guys, though. We like the opposites!"
We asked if they had ever witnessed anyone having sex in the bathroom; the bar seemed to give off that sort of vibe. "Ewww, no! I've never had sex in the bathroom," Kina said, having misunderstood us. "Maybe in the car, but not the bathroom."
We were also intrigued by two other hot chicks who were all over each other on dance floor during "Pussy Control." Misty, 24, and Brandy, 21, stood out because of their sharply angled black hair, tattoos, piercings and Hot Topicesque outfits; they were clad in short skirts, tube socks and black boots (in Misty's case) and tight tops. If they weren't dykes, they were doing a very good impression. "It's not our type of place," Brandy said. She said they were there mainly for the cheap drinks, the dancing and their friends on the bar staff. "We also go to Harpo's, Porter's, the Hurricane and Cactus," Misty added.
"No offense, but those don't seem like your type of places," we said.
"Yeah, we get nasty looks, but we don't care," she replied.
"We're shunned by girls but not guys," Brandy said. "As far as they care, we've got boobs and short skirts." Cheap booze and scantily clad senoritas? Nothing is more American than that.