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October 13 2009

Last night was what I would consider an unqualified success of a night out. I finally got to experience Redwood Pirate Bar and it was quite the place. As Jim so perfectly summed it up, “they have gone just far enough where it isn’t Disney, it is just perfect.” After a two drinks a two man jug band of some sort began a cacophony of something. Some other night perhaps I would have enjoyed them but on an overcast monday night none of us were having it. We paid our tab, bid farewell to the naked mermaid picture above our table and stepped out into the chill. We set our sights to another bar I have yet to experience, The Edison. Even though I was in a flannel, Chris in a sweatshirt, and Jim wearing what Jim wears we embarked confident in the lack of rules on a monday night at any bar. The gates were closed to us as we approached, not for lack of decorum but for lack of anyone working. Apparently, the Edison is closed on Monday nights. This did not deter us. The expedition continued. Bar 107 was our next port of call in the very low key storm that was last night. There we took on another crew member, Sexy Paul. He arrived as we sipped down our one round of drinks. After bidding fare thee well to the comedian bartender (I still have zero idea who he was but Paul and Jim seemed to recognize him ((It was Matt Dywer. Thanks Erni)) we put our feet to the pavement and continued on. At this point I must remark on a topic of discussion amongst all four of us. We were walking on the streets of downtown LA, it was around 11:30. In most other major metropolitans we would have been bustling along with crowds beyond measure. Not so in the city of angels. Downtown is a shadow of it’s former self, an echo of a time gone past. Much like a post apocalyptic city where small groups of survivors scuttle amongst the ruins, that is downtown LA on a monday night. People were huddled for warmth and walking quickly to avoid the panhandlers. There is an emptiness to downtown that I haven’t ever experienced because I have never at length walked those streets. Enough ennui, this is ROCKTOBER! We meandered up to the Standard expecting to be let in. Jim prophesied what happened ten minutes beforehand when he said that we would have no trouble getting in unless their was a private event happening on the roof. There was. This expedition would not end on a down note such as an impassable door. We trekked across to a bar I have never even heard of, a bar none of us had heard of, Library Bar. Having reached my three drink limit for the night I partook of water while the guys ordered a new round of beers. I consider myself the lucky one because Chris and Jim both disliked the microbrews that they were trying to sip down. After a group reading of a book of short stories, much akin to kindergarden where everyone reads a paragraph and passes the book along, we began some good ole fashioned guy talk. I will not divulge a damn thing about what was spoken of so don’t even ask. Needless to say some great stories were shared. We walked to the door, bid farewell to the literary libation establishment, and stepped out into the wind. The walk back was filled with more stories and laughs and a whole lot of rat sightings. At least five or six, and those things were huge. These looked like the rats that carried the bubonic plague. Now I know why downtown was so deserted, plague rats. An average Monday night turned into something spectacular thanks to Paul, Jim, and Chris. ROCKTOBER NIGHTS ARE REAL!

Last night was what I would consider an unqualified success of a night out. I finally got to experience Redwood Pirate Bar and it was quite the place. As Jim so perfectly summed it up, “they have gone just far enough where it isn’t Disney, it is just perfect.” After a two drinks a two man jug band of some sort began a cacophony of something. Some other night perhaps I would have enjoyed them but on an overcast monday night none of us were having it. We paid our tab, bid farewell to the naked mermaid picture above our table and stepped out into the chill. We set our sights to another bar I have yet to experience, The Edison. Even though I was in a flannel, Chris in a sweatshirt, and Jim wearing what Jim wears we embarked confident in the lack of rules on a monday night at any bar. The gates were closed to us as we approached, not for lack of decorum but for lack of anyone working. Apparently, the Edison is closed on Monday nights. This did not deter us.

The expedition continued.

Bar 107 was our next port of call in the very low key storm that was last night. There we took on another crew member, Sexy Paul. He arrived as we sipped down our one round of drinks. After bidding fare thee well to the comedian bartender (I still have zero idea who he was but Paul and Jim seemed to recognize him ((It was Matt Dywer. Thanks Erni)) we put our feet to the pavement and continued on.

At this point I must remark on a topic of discussion amongst all four of us. We were walking on the streets of downtown LA, it was around 11:30. In most other major metropolitans we would have been bustling along with crowds beyond measure. Not so in the city of angels. Downtown is a shadow of it’s former self, an echo of a time gone past. Much like a post apocalyptic city where small groups of survivors scuttle amongst the ruins, that is downtown LA on a monday night. People were huddled for warmth and walking quickly to avoid the panhandlers. There is an emptiness to downtown that I haven’t ever experienced because I have never at length walked those streets. Enough ennui, this is ROCKTOBER!

We meandered up to the Standard expecting to be let in. Jim prophesied what happened ten minutes beforehand when he said that we would have no trouble getting in unless their was a private event happening on the roof. There was.

This expedition would not end on a down note such as an impassable door. We trekked across to a bar I have never even heard of, a bar none of us had heard of, Library Bar. Having reached my three drink limit for the night I partook of water while the guys ordered a new round of beers. I consider myself the lucky one because Chris and Jim both disliked the microbrews that they were trying to sip down. After a group reading of a book of short stories, much akin to kindergarden where everyone reads a paragraph and passes the book along, we began some good ole fashioned guy talk. I will not divulge a damn thing about what was spoken of so don’t even ask. Needless to say some great stories were shared. We walked to the door, bid farewell to the literary libation establishment, and stepped out into the wind.

The walk back was filled with more stories and laughs and a whole lot of rat sightings. At least five or six, and those things were huge. These looked like the rats that carried the bubonic plague. Now I know why downtown was so deserted, plague rats.

An average Monday night turned into something spectacular thanks to Paul, Jim, and Chris.

ROCKTOBER NIGHTS ARE REAL!