After a delicious dinner at El Mexico, Jeanette and I headed down (or would it be up? probably up) the street for drinks at Whiskey Dicks. I’ll admit I have wanted to go there for about a year, before it was Whiskey Dicks (when it was Old English Pub), so I’m amped that it’s my VERY FIRST bar review. My curiosity stemmed from knowing my great aunt and uncle used to own the building and run a grocery store in it. A few of my uncles even lived in the apartment over the store. Well, that’s when it was an apartment. I think it’s used for an office now. But I digress. We’re off to Whiskey Dicks. The good kind. Not the kind that ruins your night….. Hopefully.
What girl doesn’t want a little whiskey dick in her life? Oh, wait. Right…
So, there we were, right? On South Seneca. OK, it’s not dramatic at all. But you have to draw your readers in. We walked into Whiskey Dicks and headed bartop. Patrons even offered to move so we could sit front and center. I like this place already. As we learned from Ross on Friends (we all know Friends imitates life), it’s not always easy to get people to scooch… “Come on. These people’ll scooch down. You guys’ll scooch, won’t you? Let’s try scooching! Come on. Come on.” But, in this case, scooching abound! Yes, I will call you people my friends. I appear to be digressing.
We took our rightful spot at the side of the bar, no scooching necessary. We decided hot day = cold beers. Even though it WAS Whiskey Wednesday, we were pretty sure whiskey would be a nightmare of a next day work hangover. Work’s enough work without being hungover.
We decided unequivocally we loved this place. Very chill. Friendly patrons. Friendly, attentive bartender who was conversational enough without interrupting our gossip. Yes, we were gossiping. Hey, we’re girls. Don’t worry, nothing too exciting. After a few beers we moved onto the “Quarter Muncher” also known to a select few as the Megatouch. I’d never mega touched anything before, but was excited to lose my virginity. After all I’d taken Jeanette’s El Mexico virginity mere minutes (or hours, who really knows) earlier. OK, let me tell you. I see why it’s called a quarter muncher! Step away from the Megatouch.
At some point in the night we both looked at our phones and realized it was after 10PM. The lighting in this place? Very clever. It felt like it was about 6:30 all night. I had a cake at home waiting to be made. Want to bet now on whether it got made? Everyone? Place your bets. All bets out?
At some point Jeanette’s friends joined us. And that’s when I found out there was a juke box in this joint! HELL YEAH! Even though Jeanette and I were packing up shop, headed home, we did order another beer. Hey, music will do that to ya. It’s the same phenomenon as thinking you can dance when you’re drunk. Music + alcohol = happiness.
What else! OH! How could I forget the limp dick?!? Our legit bartender hooked us up with some shots that JNet and I coined “the limp dick.” A fresh combination of Stoli, UV Blue, sour, Sprite, Red Bull and grenadine. All of this came together with bar flair. I was pleased. A little buzzed. But I think the pleasure would have shone through totally sober. Hey, easily amused. Don’t judge.
OK, so let’s back up.I feel like I’ve veered way off course. Well, not entirely. A good night, by definition is a compilation of random events. So, anyone who knows me knows this was a good night. There was singing, there was drinking, there was mega touching, there was laughing, there was gossip, there were wild animals (not in the bar, in video – unless it’s The Dog Bar, if there were animals in the bar, I’d be out). Damn it! I’m re-veering off course. For the eighteenth time. Thank God for drunk/rumble strips.
The bar itself was clean, and like I said well-lit.It wasn’t bright or anything, just strategically lit. I love a juke box, especially when there’s talent making playlists. Our bartender did us right: service was fast, funny, friendly and… I’m trying to think of another F. Nope. Nothing.
Bottom Line: GO! Obviously they have Whiskey Wednesdays. A sign out front told me they have 2-4-1 drinks and appetizers on Tuesdays. And on Sundays Jager Bombs and “big ass draws” are on special. Anyone want to go back? Call. Me.
Oh, and yes. I DID make the cake. And surprisingly it tasted pretty yummy. I couldn’t find toothpicks, so I tested for doneness with a chopstick. Baking a cake is definitely not something someone with drunk munchies should torture herself with. It smelled so good. But was off limits. Who thought the cake was going to make it? I had my moments of doubt. Canned cinnamon rolls were discussed as a viable alternative.
Bellied up to the bar with a Bud Light. I’m home. At peace.
This is a crappy picture, but I wanted the Quarter Muncher to be featured. Even though she was a little bitch and had some touch accuracy issues.
Here it is folks. The Limp Dick. Order one. The bartender said he WOULDN’T remember what was in them. But he’ll surely think of us. (Full disclosure: I missed pictures of the bar flair. I blame my security-enabled phone.)