Feeling a little lazy and tired a couple Sundays ago, my friend Sarah and I decided to go see Love Actually, a romantic comedy that I had heard was actually not terrible. It ended up being surprisingly funny, and by the end, Sarah and I were in much better moods than we had been in before the movie, so we decided to call a couple of friends and get drinks.
Since we were already at the Green Valley Ranch for the movie, normally we probably would have ended up at my favorite Green Valley-Henderson bar, Fado Irish Pub, which I love for the good beer and great bartenders. But for a change of pace, we headed to the GVR's Drop Bar, a big, circular bar in the middle of the casino floor.
Much to the delight of most guys that I've ever gone to the Drop Bar with, the bar stools and the long couches that run the circumference of the room are decorated in white leather which matches the little, white outfits and go-go boots the cocktail waitresses wear. But on Sunday, there was only a handful of people in there and no waitresses, just a friendly bartender who studied my ID for a few minutes before quizzing me to make sure it actually was mine (which I'm sure I'll miss in a few more years).
For some reason, I usually end up ordering dirty martinis or gin and tonics at the Drop Bar, but that night seemed to call for something a little more mellow. So both Sarah (who surprised me by ordering beer, despite her new-found love of dirty martinis) and I ended up sitting at the bar, waiting for our friends, with a couple of Coronas.
We would have been perfectly happy there if it hadn't been for Creepy Staring Guy sitting next to us. From the time we took our seats at the bar, he stared, seemingly unblinking, directly at us from about three feet away. It was unnerving, and although we were doing our best to not look directly at him and inch farther and farther away, he wouldn't stop. After a few minutes, we got up and moved to the couches, but he just turned in his chair and kept staring. We were about to move to the opposite side of the bar when Creepy Staring Guy finally left, staring back at us the whole time. A minute or two later, my roommate Alicia and our friend Nellie came in through the opposite door, which drew more attention to us, but luckily no more blatant staring.
On Friday and Saturday nights, the Drop Bar usually has a nice, high-energy lounge feel, and while it's more chill than most of the clubs, and even the GVR's Whiskey Bar, it's still a good place to people-watch. That Sunday night, the music (mostly Jay-Z, which we all considered a good thing) was set low enough that we could hear both ourselves and the happy shouts from a winning table just outside the bar without any problem. It did seem a little odd that the movie Mr. Deeds was playing soundlessly on the bar's wall-mounted TVs, and I kept looking up and catching glimpses of gross stuff onscreen, but it was easy enough to ignore. I was happy for the relative quiet, and I know Sarah, who'd been fending off hordes of caffeine fiends at Starbucks all day, and Nellie and Alicia, both masters students who had spent the afternoon studying for a class, were also glad.
Though all four of us had been a little grumpy at the beginning of the night, Sunday night drinks helped us all unwind and cheer up considerably. I don't know why, but none of us could remember the last time a cold Corona tasted so good. Once we were free of Creepy Staring Guy, the Drop Bar ended up being a great place to kick back and talk about what everyone was reading, how each person's weekend had been, and the zillion other things good friends talk about over cold beer at the end of a long week. And, of course, to prepare and make plans for the long week ahead.
Maria Phelan sets a new bar for drinking. E-mail her your favorite watering hole at [email protected]