With the exception of "Sad Sundays" which are undoubtedly in a sucidal league all their own, Tuesday nights have to be the most depressing day of the week. Most days you have something to look forward to, whether its the humping on "hump day" or quenching the thirstyness of "thirsty Thursdays" but Tuesdays remain the singlemost blase span of 24 hours ever invented. Thus, we AstoriaGirls decided it was as good a time as any to check out the Water Taxi Bar located along the sandy shores of the glorious East River in our very own Long Island City. Not only is the view of the city skyline supposed to be spectacular, but advertisments promised boatloads of hot, oily, musclebound volleyball players. Throw in a little beer and we figured it was a perfect way to drown out the Tuesday dolldrums.
So off we trekked, far out into the wild west that is the L.I.C., miles from subways and taxicabs, far from the Cafe Bars and Locales of our warm little Astoria, wandering in and out of industrial mazes until we found what had sought: Waterfront skyscape views? Check. Sandy faux beaches? Check. Beer by the kegful? Double check. Gobs of naked, dripping volleyball Gods? Checkity-check check check! This was going to be a Tuesday of most righteous excellence, we were sure of it....UNTIL...two small, meanish looking bouncers stopped us at the door. After proffering our IDs, they informed us that the Bar was closed to a private party, and that the beer in the volleyball pits was only for the players. Considering we were wearing six inch platforms and terrycloth onsies, it was fairly clear we weren't on any of the teams. We were welcome to join the private party for a cover fee of $40.00, which did not include beverages of any kind. Oh. And did I mention the private party was completely empty. Needless to say, our dreams of L.I.C beachiness were crushed, and the four of us hobbled across the sand in platforms with our terry-cloth tails between our legs.
Gwenny Deets made a good point. For $40, we could have made a better party with a kiddie pool filled with sand, my tiger-crotch bikini and a couple Heinekin mini-kegs. And maybe one Volleyball player for good measure.
There happened to be a bar located across the street known as the Crab House. (http://wfcrabhouse.com/catering.html) And if the name itself isn't enough to entice you, the decor most CERTAINLY will. I'm not quite sure what the interior designer had in mind when choosing the theme of this place...something along the lines of boxing gloves, trucker hats, and dead sealife. And a Christmas tree with a bra dangling above it. The musical backdrop was a series of sleepy Carpenter hits, and we soon realized after a pint and a cup of clam chowder that this was most definitely some sort of Long Island City version of the Bermuda Triangle. We had to get out of there fast. Luckily, we stumbled upon a place called Lucky Mojos (http://www.luckymojos.net/), a BBQ/Sushi fusion joint with a killer 2-for-1 drink special and a great classic rock soundtrack. Not only has this been the first Japanese/Dirty South fusion I've ever come across, but it has entertaining bartenders and even one of those stuffed animal Claw Machines. Now most stuffed animals found in Claw Machines appear to have suffered some kind of severe brain damadge, but not at Lucky Mojos! This place has class, man. So, several Raspberry Heffeweissens and one mystery shot later, we AstoriaGirls had salvaged our Terrible Tuesday. Thursday nights are kareoke...see you all there!
-WILLA K
