Last night, I vowed never again to wait in line to get into a bar. Now, I’ve never been a fan of bars with lines, as I find them pretentious and over-hyped. I also think there is a special place in hell for bouncers who think that being able to open and close a velvet rope somehow makes them equal to the gods. Last night, however, was the final straw on my ever friends being able to drag me to these bars against my will ever again.
Jillian invited me to go out for her friend’s birthday at Alibi in the Liberty Hotel. She’d heard it was a cool bar, as the hotel used to be a prison and the bar is decorated with prison bars and mug shots and such. I was planning on staying in and doing some homework, since I had to get up kind of early this morning, but Jillian urged me to come out. I’ll never be so maleable again.
Jillian was a little upset that we didn’t get the call to head out until 10, as she’d figured you needed to get there early to avoid lines. By the time we got out the door, it was 10:30. I didn’t bring a jacket, since I didn’t have one that matched my shirt, idiotically putting fashion before comfort. BAD DECISION. Apparently, in the last two days, winter has come over Boston and it was FREEZING. I then had to wait for the T without a jacket for THIRTY FIVE MINUTES. In that time, a T passed, giving us a momentary glimmer of hope, but then passed, giving us a giant EFF YOU, because the T rocks like that. /end sarcasm.
Once we finally got on the T (for our half an hour ride across town. Blerg.), I was so sick of waiting. I needed this bar to be awesome to justify putting on tight pants instead of pajamas. When we got to the bar, we found Jillian’s friend and walked over.
There were two lines outside (Not inside like I had been told. Thus, the shivering continued…) and we didn’t know which was for Alibi and which was for the other bar inside, Clink. (Note the period is part of the name of the bar, as in “Clink.” because punctuating the name allows them to charge another three dollars for a vodka tonic.) Anyway, Jillian went and asked which line was which, and one (of about seven) bouncer told us it was the one on the left, and that the wait would be about 25 minutes. Awesome. I figured I could suck it up for twenty-five minutes.
So we waited. And waited. The line moved every half hour until we were only one person from the front of the line. Success! I then looked over to another sad, cold bar hopper talking to a bouncer whow was informed that the line of the RIGHT was for Alibi. Uh oh. I realized we’d been waiting in the WRONG LINE for over thirty minutes. Of course, at this moment, bouncer came over and proceeded to let everyone in the Alibi line into the bar! (Even people who got there well after us.)
I asked him if that was, in fact, the Alibi line, and he said yes, so we hoped over into that line (and became the only ones in the line) and HE CLOSED THE ROPE ON US! After he saw that we’d been in the wrong line (at the FRONT of the wrong line, obviously having been there for a while.) We seethed, but figured we couldn’t wait that much longer at the front of this new line. We were wrong. We waited another 25 minutes, before getting so angry we called the original (lying) bouncer over to us to explain the situation. He was unsympathetic, doubting he even told us the wrong line in the first place. Douche.
This whole time, HUNDREDS of people were pouring out of the bar, and creepy slutty street walkers flirted with the bouncers and walked right in. Adding to the fun, while Jillian scolded the bouncer, the girls behind us clearly had our backs, muttering “Great, now we aren’t going to get in, becuase he hates them!”
Cut to 20 mintues later when said girl reached our level of frustration and left the line to go yell at the boucers about how she’d never been treated so poorly. (”I’ve been waiting here behind three people for an HOUR while hundreds of people have come out! I’ve never seen such TERRIBLE customer service in my life!” Clearly, all she needed was 20 more minutes in the cold to feel our pain.)
Finally, at 10 til 1AM (we got there at 11:30 and the bar closes at 2), Jillian’s friend calmly approached the bouncer who’d closed the rope on us to calmly and kindly explain that she’d spent that last hour and a half of her birthday in the line, shivering, after being given faulty information by one of their bouncers. Couldn’t he just let us into the hotel so we could get a drink, not even in Ablibi, just anywhere, rather than standing outside until taking a cab home at 2. He agreed and let us in.
We walked into and quickly out of Alibi as it was loud, crowded, and none of us wanted to give the bar any money by buying drinks at that point. We ended up wandering around the hotel, (which was SUPER COOL, much to my chagrin) looking for a fancy bathroom, and stealing towels from said bathroom. Clearly, we are classy. And vindictive. We had to restrain Jillian from yelling at the original bouncer on the way out.
In conclusion, don’t go to exclusive clubs. Or, as we were condescendingly told by the bouncer, get there early. Or just don’t go at all, save ourself some money, buy a giant handle of vodka, plug in your iPod, and have your own awesome dance party. You can put a velvet rope outside your door to feed your need for exclusivity. Plus, you could wear pajamas. Who wouldn’t want to party in pajamas?