A tirade

Word of the day:
FOP
Noun: A man who is overly concerned with or vain about his dress and appearance; a dandy.

BEVY
Noun: A group; an assembly or collection.

I decided there needed to be two "words of the day" today, for two main reasons. First is that it has been so incredibly long since I've posted anything, I thought a double-word-of-the-day entry was necessary. Secondly, these two words are both going to come in handy when I get to the primary purpose and content of this particular entry.

Tonight, I went to the worst bar I have ever been to in my entire life. This is not an exaggeration. It is also saying a lot, because I have been to many, many bars, and I generally like any bar I go to. But tonight was different.

I was at my friends Meghan and Cami's apartment on the upper east side of Manhattan and we were trying to find somewhere to watch the Brewers/Phillies NLDS game. Meghan looked online and found a couple sports bars in the area, all of which were around the same corner, so we headed over. The place we wanted to go to was called Blondies, I was quite excited because I've been to (and am in love with) the Blondies on the west side, so I knew we'd have a good time. However, when we got there, it was the end of the 3rd inning (and also 7:30 on a Saturday night) so the place was packed -- so much so that there was a huge line down the block just to get in. In hindsight, we probably should've just sucked it up and waited in the line, but my firm nightlife principle is this: if there is a line outside, it is either the kind of place that I would hate, or filled with the kind of people I would hate. (I was probably right -- it looked like all Phillies fans in line.) So instead of needlessly waiting in line to go to a packed bar, we went right next door to a decent-looking place that was jam-packed with TVs. We wondered vaguely why it was so empty when the place next door was so full, but I rationalized it by acknowledging how amazing Blondies truly is, especially if you factor in the buffalo wings. Of course everyone in the neighborhood would want to go there instead of anywhere else -- regardless of how great "anywhere else" might be.

Upon entering [said unnamed bar], we noticed that there was college football on all over, but no baseball. Meghan went up to the bar and shortly thereafter we were sitting at a table in the front, drinking beers, watching the Brewers hand the Phillies' asses to them. (Please allow the slight exaggeration.) About 5-10 minutes after we sat down, a bartender (not the one who turned the game on for us) changed the channel on the TV we were watching to a college football game that was already playing on numerous TVs right near us. I went up and pointed out that we were watching that particular TV, and the bartender informed me that it was College Football Saturday, so we'd have to go watch the baseball game on a TV a little further back. The asshole bartender wasn't even apologetic at all! I'm sorry, but what the hell kind of bar doesn't show a playoff baseball game in October? For that matter, what kind of barflies don't watch or even have the slightest vague interest in baseball in October?? (We should have taken a hint and left then and there.) We were certainly not happy to give up the only table in the bar (no exaggeration there -- the bar had no tables, except for a special kind, which I will get to in a bit) and move to a different part of the bar. We ended up on a little stage thing, leaning on a railing, then finding stools to steal and move up to this little private viewing area. Not 5 minutes later, the channel changed to yet another college football game. Once again, we were bumped to a different TV -- even further in the back. Annoyed but not completely surprised, we moved our stools once again and settled in for the rest of the game.

Allow me to describe the general aura of this bar. The barstools were all wobbly, with torn leather seats and God-knows-what all over some of them, and the sole high-top table lived up to the same standards. The entire place itself was dirty, especially the bathrooms, the stairs to which were almost as disgusting as the bathroom itself. The bartenders were not in the least bit knowledgeable about what beers they served, which was especially disheartening since the selection was pretty limited to begin with. All of this, however -- the nasty bathrooms, decrepit furniture, asshole employees -- was nothing compared to the clientele. I don't even know how to describe such a crowd. I think I'm going to have to provide anecdotes and individual observations as opposed to general descriptions, because I just don't know how to go about explaining how awful it was.

When we first moved onto the little stage area to watch on our second TV, a creepy guy (late 20s/early 30s?) was leaning against the railing on the opposite side and took to staring shamelessly at Meghan. This may not have been such a big deal if he'd been more than 6 inches from her, but he was not. Cami and I were leaning on the railing from one side, and creepy dude's face was practically resting on it from the other side, right in front of Meghan. When we moved down to our 3rd TV, he moved down as well and once again rested on the railing not 6 inches from her. At one point, he started leaning closer to her, and Cami and I thought he might start licking her arm or something equally wonderful.

Mr. Creepy eventually moved on to annoy other groups of people, and we were finally able to notice some of the other fine characters in the place. Further back from where we had been sloughed off to were 3 or 4 long tables, arranged parallel to each other, on each of which was being played a seemingly grueling game of beer pong. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against a good game of beer pong. However, please allow me to elaborate on the individuals playing it. 85% of them were little boys dressed up in suits. The other 15% is being reserved for little boys *not* dressed up in suits, but in jeans and hoodies instead, as well as Mr. Creepy. Again, for the record, I have nothing against jeans and hoodies. I myself was wearing jeans and a hoodie. But once again, allow me to elaborate.

These assclowns were standing around playing beer pong in the back corner of a sports bar on a Saturday night. There were actually some women in the bar besides us, clearly receptive to being hit on (I'll get back to these women, give me just a minute to finish my current rant) and yet the little boys were playing their game in the back corner. Not only were they ignoring all the women in the bar, they were also ignoring every TV in the place. They could've been watching any college football game, as well as a playoff baseball game... or hitting on slutty women (or talking to us, the non-slutty women, but really that wasn't the plan)... but instead of doing these things -- any of which would prove they had testosterone running through their systems -- they were playing dress-up in daddy's suits, playing a game of beer pong. Did I mention they were all in their late 20s/early 30s? These weren't 21- or 22-year-olds just learning what it's like to go to a bar. And there were at least 20-25 of them! On a Saturday night in October, what are you doing at a sports bar if you don't want to (a) watch sports, or (b) talk to women?? Not only were these guys stupid, they were also jerks. They would continuously walk in between Meghan and I on the way to the bathroom, bumping into both of us and at one point pushing Meghan off her chair, even though there was plenty of room for them to walk past if they'd gone around us instead of crossing on the stage area. Meghan pointed this out to the douche who knocked her off her chair, and he claimed laziness as his excuse. Really? That's the best you can do, asshole?

Let's review: the men at this bar were not men but boys, because of their inability to function with other human beings, their lack of interest in sports (in OCTOBER, for goodness' sake!), and the fact that they didn't care to talk to any of the women in the bar. I shall now describe these women that graced the barstools at [said Godforsaken bar]. Some of them seemed normal enough (including but not limited to Meghan, Cami, and myself). A few were wearing sweatpants and hoodies or ensembles that looked like pajamas -- and I'm going to go ahead and assume they live in the neighborhood and just wanted to watch college football with their buddies. (Forgivable, but I still would never wear my pajamas to a bar on the upper east side...) The group of ladies (and I use that term loosely) that I have not yet described appalled us very much. They had on jeans or some other kind of pants that was not super slutty, but then rolled their shirts up and tucked them into their bras so they appeared to be wearing a cutoff shirt of some kind. It would be one thing if these girls were all together; it could've been a bachelorette party or something (although I pity any bachelorette whose friends would take her to such a place). No, these girls were sporadically spread throughout the bar, not acquainted with one another, just akin in their trashy style choices. It would have been forgivable if they had actually gone out and bought a cutoff shirt that showed their stomach as long as that was the intended purpose of the garment. But wearing a t-shirt and rolling it up and tucking it into your bra (quite obviously)?... Trashy, with a capital "T."

On the one hand, I can't believe I have talked this long about a bar, especially one that I couldn't stand. But I simply could not let this opportunity to share my misfortune go to waste. To summarize: you should keep a discerning eye when entering a bar on the upper east side: it may have a bevy of fops.