| rev:text
| - Kelly's, located at the ever-yuppifying intersection of Shadyside and East Liberty, has the curious distinction of being an avowed non-lesbian bar that refuses the bare minimum of customer service to anyone but lesbians. As a bisexual employee of the software industry, my talents include A/B testing the waitstaff at Kelly's, and boy, have I! The verdict is in: you'll have to be a sister on the Island of Sappho to have an even marginally pleasant experience here. This is totally cool; after all, Lord knows the 'Burgh could use more lesbian bars. But if that's what you are, don't advertise your space as welcoming to anyone and everyone who digs rock n' roll dive bars.
My first experience at Kelly's was also a first date with a lady I've long since left. Our orders were picture-perfect and our waitress was pleasant as could be, stopping by constantly to ask if we needed anything. A repeat visit to Kelly's, for a female friend's birthday party with a damn near all-girl group - the one guy, my husband, was decked out like Bowie from the 70s, which is to say he looked extremely gay - and the beer and liquor was flowing, while the waitstaff was convivial and attentive. "I could really get into this place," I thought.
I was so wrong.
The next two times I came to Kelly's, I made the error of coming with men. This was a Mistake of Epic Proportions, on par with selling Andrea Dworkin on the idea of sex-positive porn. Both times, our waitress (two different waitresses!) ignored our table for as long as they possibly could. My second go-round with bringing men to Kelly's left us sitting in a near-empty bar for 25 minutes. We were about to leave when we finally got service. My first angsty waitress acted like she was doing me a favor by taking my order, and the second didn't make eye contact, preferring to grunt and scribble on her note pad. I don't think she said one complete sentence to us. And so I kept getting the beers and the guys kept getting my martinis, both times. Our mac n' cheese on the first trip was burned, which I assume was the kitchen's way of saying "fuck you" for bringing Y chromosomes to the place. On my second trip, I ordered a gin and tonic, and got - no joke - a 16-oz. glass of tonic water with lime. When I politely asked for gin, our waitress tossed me a disgusted grimace and heaved a sad sigh, as if she'd just been sentenced to 50 years in the clink.
Other male friends back in Pittsburgh have reported similar issues with Kelly's, so I'm not imagining the gender-biased service discrepancies. And they're not just rude, nor are they merely bigoted. They make going out WORK. This venue gets one star because it offered me: a) a patio providing comfortable respite in the summer, b) a jukebox with some 70s and 80s alt/punk hits I love, and c) clean bathrooms. However, a one star rating this will stay because loud music, toilets, and outdoor seating are bare-minimum offerings when you build a bar aimed at the under-40 alt-rock set. And sadly, as East Liberty continues to gentrify, even those elements have slipped.
If you like service with a scowl, fantasize about lighting 20-dollar bills on fire, or get off on watching kids with Elvis Costello glasses who've literally just learned how to drink queue up "music" destroyed by Auto-Tune, come to Kelly's.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)
![[cxml]](/fct/images/cxml_doc.png)
![[csv]](/fct/images/csv_doc.png)
![[text]](/fct/images/ntriples_doc.png)
![[turtle]](/fct/images/n3turtle_doc.png)
![[ld+json]](/fct/images/jsonld_doc.png)
![[rdf+json]](/fct/images/json_doc.png)
![[rdf+xml]](/fct/images/xml_doc.png)
![[atom+xml]](/fct/images/atom_doc.png)
![[html]](/fct/images/html_doc.png)