Last night I met two friends downtown. Our outing involved dinner (we were supposed to be enjoying margaritas on the patio, but instead were bundled up instead sipping sangria -- sure we're still recovering from a drought here, but really, the first time I'm out in the evening with other adults and it has to rain?) and drinks.
For our after-dinner drink, we hit a new bar call The Rendezvous Lounge. Except apparently they think it's the "Rendez Vous" lounge, which bugs the crap out of me. I should have stayed away just on principle. (Poking around, I see it sometimes written as Rendez-vous, but never two words. Sorry, as a former editor it's hard to get over these things.) As it's painted on the window, it looks like one word. But on the door they actually have in sticky letters: What happens at Rendez Vous stays at Rendez Vous." (Reason number two I really should have not given them my $9 for a martini.)
We walked in from the rain, and it was dimly lit. But it was light enough to see the woman just inside the door straddling a guy and grinding. Apparently some people believe this "what happens here stays here" crap. Except we live in Colorado Springs. I'd hate to see what's going on in Vegas these days thanks to those commercials. There's just not enough alcohol in the city to get me to do a lap dance in public. When she wasn't on his lap, they were still making out. And it wasn't polite making out either. It was shoving tongues down each other's throats kissing. It was 8:30 p.m. and they were out the door. (Seriously, I don't know how the guy could get up and walk after all that.)
Our waitress had thigh-high leopard print boots on, and a wig (we concluded) and had an accent that reminded me of Natasha from "Rocky & Bullwinkle." Nothing real about her. Or the entire place. It wasn't very crowded. Just two couples getting it on in the front, and four other women besides my two friends and me. Once the grinder and her guy left with their friends, and the others left, we were outnumbered by the staff.
Give the status of our downtown, this place will never survive. It's the umpteenth martini bar to open in a four-block radius and simply put, it's trying to hard to be hip and cool. I hate to sound like a marketer or, worse, an old fogey, but this place needs a catch. And "what happens here stays here" ain't gonna do it.
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