Gimme Some Elbow Room!

<= Rasputin: Creepy Guy's Ancestor?

Friday's Happy Hour was at the Elbow Room on Gaston.  I like the Elbow Room.  It has a nice low-key vibe, and there's a good mix of hipsters ("I know that guy!  How do I know that guy?  The one with the tiny mustache and fedora?  Howdoiknowhimdoyouknowhimiknowhim!") and unhipsters (such as myself).  After 11 pm, there are also ridiculously good-looking guys playing...that game... with sand on the table... and little round things you send zinging across...but not too far across...the table...

I was about to fall into a rant about their Guinness tasting funny, but I just remembered I had eaten a peppermint before we showed up, so that might have something to do with why the first pint'o tasted a bit like Robitussin, but the ones following were A-OK.

I have decided that I love the Elbow Room.  Why?  Because the waitresses look out for you.  And so does the manager.  And the doorman.  Towards the end of the night, myself and my friends Kathy* and Frankie* and I were sitting at a table with Creepy Guy.  Creepy Guy is, in a word, creepy.  He looks like an oily werewolf.  He's creepy.  Frankie was ready to go, and I whispered to him not to leave until Kathy and I tabbed out so we wouldn't be left alone with C.G.

I then went over to the waitress and asked her if she could hurry our tabs out, as we didn't want to be left alone with "the creepy guy in the leather jacket."  She looked concerned, and a few seconds later brought me my tab and whispered in my ear that she had notified the manager about the creepy guy and that the doorman would be making sure we got to our cars ok.  Wow.  On the way out, the manager stopped me, asked which guy was the creepy guy (I didn't want him to think Frankie was C.G.) and spoke to the doorman.  Awesome service.  It was nice that they showed such concern for their female patrons.

So, I say, "Go to the Elbow Room.  Good beer.  Fun games.  Concerned waitresses."

* Names have been changed... in case my friends don't want to appear in my blog... cuz some of them are spies, they say...