Well, kids, I've finally kicked off the Sacred and Most Holy Quest for the Three Hundred. Took a trip to Seattle this past weekend, and managed to rack up six new bars. And while I was at it, I realized that despite visiting a Red Robin or two in the past, I'd somehow forgotten to include it on my list.
So, the total now stands at 242. Here's how it happened: immediately after checking into the hotel, we decided to check out the bar in the lobby, Rain:
The service was very good, and the bar was kinda like a livingroom, albeit a damn nice one. The menus had copper covers, which really made me want to steal one for my own bar. I ended up visiting Rain again at the end of Saturday night's pub crawl.
Speaking of which, Saturday after the Emerald City Comicon, we headed for Pioneer Square and the surrounding area, looking for supper and a drink. Not necessarily in that order. We popped into Tiki Bob's Cantina, but there wasn't a soul in sight. We could hear noises from somewhere in back, but we've been to the movies - going to investigate would surely have resulted in somebody getting their arm chainsawed off, or their face made into a mask. Instead of splitting up to find the killer, we wisely went to F.X. McRory's instead:
Apparently the specialty at McRory's is whiskey:
Which is not to say that they ignore any of the other kinds:
They also had a ton of LeRoy Neiman art, much of which was apparently commissioned from the man himself:
Next we headed for Howl at the Moon, where we were entertained by a little musical comedy, and where we paid a ten-dollar cover charge and given a map of all the other bars we were now entitled to visit. I took a few pictures there, but sadly I had the flash turned off, since the booze was starting to kick in. At least I got another picture of liquor bottles before we left, though:
We were tempted to stay longer than a couple rounds, but duty called, and so we ventured to Fenix Underground, where apparently the 80s are alive and well.
Or at least alive. Considering they were playing Tiffany and Berlin videos, we didn't stay long. And on the way out I snapped the obligatory front-door shot:
Next stop was J&M Café & Cardroom, another spot that I'd like to spend more time in. The place had a high, vaulted ceiling and looked like it had some history to it. They also played some Georgia Satellites, which is infinitely better than Tiffany, as fine as she did grow up to be.
By now things were getting a little blurry, but we weren't about to stop. And besides, we were still milking that cover charge for all it was worth. We checked out another place (the Last Supper Club, possibly), but it was a little too reminiscent of the Fenix Underground, even if the proprietors did have access to a dictionary. So finally we stumbled to New Orlean's (the bar, not the city), a damn fine blues establishment:
(I really should've gotten a photo of the men's room, which featured stalls with sides about 4 feet tall, and about a thousand cartoon faces staring at you while you took a whiz. Definitely not for the shy of bladder.)
After that we started migrating back to our hotel, acquiring a cab somewhere along the way. Passing through the lobby, I saw world-renowned raconteurs Jim Mahfood and Dave Crosland drinking at Rain with various other funnybook luminaries, and ventured in to join them. The night wrapped up somewhere around 3:30, and that, as they say, was that.
Thank you, Seattle!