Do you ever find yourself looking at the clock around 8:45 p.m. on any given night and think, “Oh my god, what the hell am I going to do?” You become so frazzled you almost run out of the house shoeless and keyless…but it doesn’t matter as long as you have your I.D. and some cash, you’ll be fine.
Ah yes, the mad dash to the liquor store is something I know all too well. This whole closing at 9 p.m. thing will forever be strange to me. What is that all about anyway? This is Miller Country, the land of the brewski, and yet we can’t purchase it or any of its counterparts after 9 p.m.?
Obviously, this is nothing new. Even if you are reading this and you were born in the 1960s, without doing any formal research, I feel like you have grown up under the same Milwaukee law. And as annoying as it may be, it’s a law without a loophole. Trust me, I’ve tried.
When winter strikes (or the economy is in crisis mode, whichever you prefer) this social butterfly likes to get comfy in her cocoon. I’ve said it before, but I am a big chicken when it comes to braving the winter conditions. I just can’t seem to relax knowing I’m going to have to shovel out my car from under seven feet of snow the next day or blackout after slamming my head on the pavement while waiting in line at a club. Winter is the time where the bouncers show their true girly-man colors by not shoveling and/or salting the sidewalk for their shivering patrons (yeah, I said it.)
Speaking of a blackout, last week my block on the lower East Side and many blocks surrounding it lost power for almost five hours. It was a Friday night and it was quite devastating, actually. Because every building was out of power, all of the shops closed early, including my local liquor store.
Sure, I could’ve driven somewhere else, but I scored V.I.P. parking right in front of my building and I wasn’t about to give it up for a liquor run. So, my roommate decided to hang out with the guys across the hall. Their apartment was stocked with everything ours was not: Candles, wine, pie and, of course, Dragons and Dungeons, or is it the other way around? (don’t ask, I didn’t either.)
I, however, decided to mosey on down to my local watering hole, Café Hollander. Not my favorite place in the world but they do have free wi-fi and I always feel like I’m in Europe when I’m there, especially if I’m drinking a Strongbow or Stella.
Somehow, they were the only place with power. The houses, stores and even the streetlights that surrounded Hollander were all dark. It was an omen, I guess. (Or maybe, a conspiracy? Think about it…)
Nothing about Hollander ever really seems to surprise me. The crappy service is a given and I’ve long stopped asking myself why they are always extremely busy, it just does not matter anymore. I’ve assumed that Café Hollander is the ultimate status symbol of bars/restaurants in this city. Everyone in Milwaukee wants to answer the question, “So, what did you do last night?” with “Oh, you know. Just hung out at Hollander…”
I generally only visit Hollander as my last resort or out of complete desperation. I mean, I only went because there was a power outage and I didn’t want to move my car to drive anywhere. That should tell you something. I was desperate for energy: the crowded bar type of energy, and the working light bulb type, as well.
Well, after almost three-hours, a bowl of mashed potatoes, one glass of spiked apple cider and four or five Stellas later; I did the usual stumble back to my well-lit apartment.
Sadly, I blew a lot of money at one of my least-loved places, but I was happy I didn’t let the dark get the best of me.
Café Hollander actually saved the day, err…night.
