The Ostrich has an identity crisis. It thinks it's a lowkey speakeasy by having well dressed door men welcome you at the inconspicuous entrance of stairs that lead to the basement.
Once inside, you realize that you're still in suburban chandler, the basement is the size of your typical giant bar & grill. The crowd is your typical riff raff that shows up to Sandbar, nothing says classy craft cocktail bar like dudes in flip flops & tank tops showing off their nipple hair. But then again, the cocktails aren't all that craft either, the menu lacks innovation, the mai tai, old fashioned, & french 75 that we ordered were uninspired & lacked balance.
The time to get your drinks is quite the wait, and if you're looking to have some nice conversation with your group, be ready to shout as they have music blasting & other patrons shouting as if youre in a club instead of a low-key speakeasy.