Fast Forward New York: It's like Mexico, but you can drink the water... for $5

¿Puede usted sentir la Hacienda?

According to Wikipedia, Hacienda is a Spanish word for "estate" or "plantation." Now, most kids from the middle west like I associate the word "plantation" with "evil southern slavedrivers." That, of course, is unfair, a result of only hearing the word used in American agro-historical context, namely pre-Civil War southern state economy; additionally, I've never set foot on or seen a plantation, unless we have yet another word for it in Ohio that I'm unaware of. (Farm?) And while plantations still exist, and I'm fairly sure there aren't any slaves on them, I do know (thanks to 4th grade social studies) that plantations are BAD.

So back to SlaveLand... I mean Hacienda. There used to be a mediocre Mexican restaurant at the Erie Commons in Mentor (lemme hear ya in da) OH named Hacienda, I think mainly because the English aesthetics of the word imply "Mexico." It's certainly not Americanese. Thankfully, I'm bringing you an interlude from the weekend not from the North Coast but instead the East Village, where this not-quite-Mexican bar serves drinks to the young hipster (I assume, as the EV is where I hear hipster wildlife congregates) on most occasions and, on this night, to a group of 30 lawyers.

I am not a lawyer. I do know one whose birthday is Tuesday, though, and lovely girl that she is invited me to her weekend preparty. Big dudes at the door check my ID, ask me if I'm here for a private party, me and my two dude friends. I say yes, knowing full well that if it's crowded inside that I'm out of luck. There are reasons why three guys don't try to get into bars all at once, and those reasons made me wish I'd left Dane at home. And Tim. Yes, I wish I'd come by myself. But the big dudes let us in. I was astonished. Then I saw the place was empty, and immediately turned up my nose.

Walking in, there's a lovely free coatcheck that I was happy to use. The bar is long, the decor is red, red, red, with booths to the left and the bar to the right, and a private, semi-curtained room in the back that seems like had we gotten drunker might have turned into the boom boom room with sofas (couches? Diff?) lining the walls and a personal toilet for the back room groupies. That was in its own room, of course, you get the idea.

Oh yeah- we pregamed at Welcome to the Johnsons', a local sub-dive in the Lower East. There's nothing quite like the constant funk in the air at this place, like a semi-potent mix of stale beer and armpit. $2 PBRs, though, and a crowd about as unpretentious as it gets. Yes, it's full of proles. Proles listening to pre-Nevermind Nirvana as an upper. Some guy bought us all beers after I agreed to take his picture with his girlfriend for him. Grand gesture, no, but neither is $6 in beer.

Back to Hacienda- wait, nothing good happened there. I asked for a Negra Modelo and I settled for a Bud. They should be put out of business just for that. It's a frickin bar called Hacienda! How could they not have the greatest Mexican beer in the history of Mexico? Or at least the one I wanted?

That's just my opinion, of course. Dane never wanted to come. Get this- he called Tim, bitched about Tim coming to this party, invited himself along when he couldn't come up with anything better to do, then complained every instant he was there. Eventually Tim relented and allowed Dane to lead him to 151, which will get its own review at some point. Dane is such a douche.

Music was standard Hip Hop, which means minimum 5 years old. We were more in a 30-year-old Journey mood, and he accommodated for roughly two songs ("Don't Stop Believin' " and something else.) Then we were back to the 'hood, and the girls wanted to rock to the '80s some more. So off the the Alphabet Lounge and their DJ attraction.

Now, I'm a fairly reasonable guy, I think. I reason that there are roughly half a million bars in this city that will let me walk in and pay $5+ for a given $0.25 beer without a hassle at the door or a cover charge. The Alphabet Lounge is not one of them. I was happy the girls were allowed to get in free (scratch that, I was furious) but a $10 cover and there isn't even any live music? Just a DJ spinning 80s. Be serious, right? Well, the girls were pleased. One of them nearly mauled me, but I was heady enough and sober enough to fend her off. Anyway, I like the layout of this place, with a lower dance floor with a bar and an upper tier floor for hot chicks and drunk guys. Naturally, our group fit in well in the upper tier. Check it out if you like cover charges.

I only slept until 4pm, so it must have been a pretty tame evening. No severe regrets, except the $60 round of SoCoLime shots at Alphabet City. I can absorb that, though. Until next time... get into trouble!

Welcome to the Johnsons'
123 Rivington St