Japanese at Yamato? Cool. Baked out and hopped on a moto. Blitzed. Floated through the door and damn near face planted into a carp pool. Cool. Nobody saw it.
Diver and his significant sitting poolside. Nice place. A long sushi bar, a yakitori grill, and teppanyaki tables. Private rooms in the back. The carp pool a nice touch. Good feed, too. Sushi and sashimi a win and some pretty cute waitresses. A feast to remember. Mainly because the bill for 3 people came to $134.
But to be fair, we could have gone easy instead of kicking into medieval banquet mode. But that's not why you meet people for Jap food. Either way,
Next time Suzume.
10:30pm. Only ones left. Tired, angry looking staff wanted us out. I commiserate. Besides, 2 1/2 bottles of sake in us and then some. Should call it a night but...it's only 10:30.
Sharky Bar:
Sharky's good lately. Chicks on the post-New Year $$ hunt. Time to pay for all that New Year gambling and drinking their boyfriends, husbands, brothers got into. A pretty full house. Some new faces on the prowl and the boys all out on the town. All thinking the same thing. Hours of talk, drink, flirt.
2am:
Zeppelin called. The staff recovering from the night before. Plied them with monster B-52s all night. They drank until they group-puked behind the bar. 3am - Good tunes. Drunken banter and cheap booze. Teeth sauntered by. Thinking home. But the devil on my shoulder...
3:15am
Someone said the Heart was full of action. I wondered....Doubting. Hate the Heart. Denizen of queers, African scammers, and tourists without imagination...And Dredge's decided it's his favorite late night pull-party. Publisher jumped on the bandwagon....
People raving about the renovations they made. "It's changed....better than before," Publisher assured, "Security is cool now." I Headed to the pat-down. Junior Hitler at the door grabbed my dick, squeezed my pockets and grabbed the rig in my back pocket. Hands on hips, he heroically declared:
"You Cannot Use Drug in My Bar!! Cannot Be Bring Illegal Drug into Heart Da'kness!!"
I thought about a response. Like, "...Your bar is packed with Nigerian coke dealers and meth-addled weirdos.." but... Why argue? Many reasons not to spend my hard-earned cashish here. Douchebag security guard is just one more.
A lot to be said about the Heart and the people who love it, but the photo sums-up the place up better than anything I can write:
Take that MutherFucker*