For the past few Saturday nights, I’ve been working at Q101 from 8pm-midnight. Every time I pull out of the parking garage at Hubbard and Wells, I drive past a line of beautiful people waiting to get into the Bull and Bear. And by “line,” I mean 20-30 deep. And by “beautiful,” I mean…beautiful.
This led me to wonder what went on inside the place. What could th ebar and grill offer that’s worth standing outside for? Pole dancers for the guys? Mani/pedis for the girls? As it turns out, table taps and burgers. Compelling, sure, but worth the L.A.-style humiliation? Doubt it.
My bar-hopping days are admittedly long behind me, but as I remember the process, the idea of going out was:
- Hang out and get loaded with friends.
- Gawk at members of the opposite sex.
- Talk to members of the opposite sex.
If a bar, club, or tap room was too crowded or busy to accomplish those goals, my friends and I would find another place with a liquor license to go to. There simply was no location whose offerings were so amazing that I was willing to wait behind a rope for the privilege of giving them my money.
This is Chicago. Cut the velvet rope.