I am not dead yet, and thus, I have the right to party, even if my fun does not reach a Saturday night fever pitch! My friend Conrad, happily takes the role of designated driver (silent heroes on wheels) and thus I was afforded the opportunity to have drinks which usually lift the fun to a few wonderful degrees. And to be clear, I do not drink to black-out, or pass out, or pass the line of appropriate behavior. I just drink to have a bit more courage on social settings. Perhaps, the cowardly lion can take cue, and drink liquor, on days when his roar and mane are not feeling kingly.
This bar sits on Sunset, a famous boulevard of Los Angeles and thus it invites a cast of characters that made the night spectacular. Let us start with the individual who left a 100 dollar bill on the pool table to mark his place in line. As the picture shows, some people place a business card to mark their place, while others take their bill and curl it slightly, while others just sit in the nearby couches and watch for their turn for cue and triangle. I wondered why this individual placed a 100 dollar bill? Was the person just out of smaller bills or was he trying to communicate the wealth he had in a subliminal way? Like, when a rich from a posh European city, takes her hand and sweeps her costly and highlighted hair to draw the curtain that reveals diamond earrings that cost more than tuition at Vassar? I am not sure why, but I think the person was trying to communicate wealth with quiet yet blaring actions. But what do I know of how the rich communicate excess in quiet ways.
While I was waiting for my turn at the pool table, I went from the room with the pool table, and the dance floor, with the bar in between. It is important to note that the pool room also had a window bar. That is where I got my drinks, not in the more traditional bar between the dance floor and the pool table. And you all, the dance floor was modestly lit. Please do not imagine a dance floor replete with people, as if were in Mardi Gras. But the floor had enough people to make the bump and grind charged with the kind of electricity that only revelers in motion can produce. In some of the videos, I tried to capture the feeling I just described. My favorite moment of the night, was when the red disco spined with conviction and flare as a song of the princess of pop blared--- I am slave for U. That kind of moment, when the body moves with glee, when a performer you adore blasts in the waves of the room, and the disco ball hypnotizes, cannot be bought, only lived, which means, again, that I am not dead yet!
The Short Stop, has a lot going on, and that includes pictures and signs! For example, there is a sign that reminds patrons, "crowded area, stay alert!" I saw a similar sign when I visited the Griffith Observatory. And I will make the same comment, as I made then, how can we be expected to stay alert when the place is crowded by design! And if pickpockets came to steal, how can I prevent them, when my focus is on the night and its free flowing fun flow? Signs like that are a sobering reminder, and in a place like this that signs, is a turn down, a cautionary tale, that brings my level of glee, a few notches down. But, I understand that their necessary, I know that people steal to survive or to buy expensive cars, with other reasons within and without these polar points. I also sign a picture of a police car next to a recent explosion--- the big blooming fire ball, was proof. It reminded me that LA has many wonderful attributes (like frappes and Rodeo Drive) but it also has a violent history. I guess, LA is a tapestry of events, that all together make LA a city of Angels and Demons, and of course humans. Regardless, I feel lucky to be part of its people because it means that I am par of its history. My dent in its existence might be small, but at least, I am a speck in the palace of LA.
Eventually, I did get to play pool, and I lost the game, alongside my partner in crime Conrad.
While we were waiting for our turn, we saw some folks having an ugly party contest. One of them had a sweater with a target on it. He also had a pocket with a ball. I had the courage to ask if I could play. Before he said yes, I rummaged the ball pocket for the ball that I could throw at his bullseye. He told me, in a joking way, that I should have waited for consent to touch his pocket. I apologized because he was right, then he gave me the ball, with no blame attached. then I threw it. I made it to the sweater but not to target. He did not make me buy him a drink.
This bar is a good time you all, highly recommend it, it has a lit bit for any partier. read more