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| - Oh, Hurricane Bay, how do I write a review about you? You are one of the most ridiculous establishments I have ever stepped foot in- and not the good kind of ridiculous. Yet, I don't hate you. You gave me sticky shoes and made me feel elitist. You offered me shots in test tubes and made me feel like I might be revisiting Daytona Beach Spring Break '99. Your employees made me feel like I was the last person on earth who hadn't got breast implants. Yes, Hurricane Bay, you did all these awful things to me, but I still think you are worth two stars for the entertainment value.
Let's be honest, I moved to Phoenix about a year ago and I don't have a ton of friends. These things take time! Most of my friends have turned out to be wonderful co-workers who unfortunately do not love the booze. So, when the opportunity to actually go out to the bar arises, I usually jump at it. And arriving at Hurricane Bay made me realize that maybe I'm a bit too desperate for bar buddies. But I'm okay with that, for now.
The lure was 50-cent martinis. Yes, that is not a typo. Wednesday night is ladies night and they have four silly Sex and the City themed martini's you can get for only fifty cents. I don't care how trashy it is, as long as I'm not going to get shot on my way up to the bar, I'm down with paying 50 cents for a martini. There is also a Mr. Big martini but you have to pay 3 bucks for it. So typical of Mr. Big to want us to give him so much more than we can.
The minute we arrived, a young man approached me and put his hand on my waist. I'm not usually down with this kind of behavior- so assuming! Anyway, he starts singing the awful song that was blaring through the speakers, grabs an olive (ewww, the lemons and limes and olives were sitting right on the bar so anyone could touch them), jams it half way into his mouth and does this awful twirl and ends up face to face with me, hoping that I will bite off the other end of the olive. I, of course, chose to laugh in his face. Like, really? I didn't even mention the fact that when he smiled, I had to look away because the lights were hitting his BRACES in the worst way. I don't ever want to put myself in situations where I feel like an older woman, but that boy had to be somewhere near eighteen.
Throughout the evening there was a contest in which the big prize was a trip to the Bahamas. A random Wednesday night in the West Valley, eh? The last round's challenge was faking an orgasm. So, a bunch of little girls got up in front of the crowd and faked an orgasm. It was embarrassing for everyone in earshot. I swear, I'm not even making this up!
There does happen to be a room off the main area with karaoke. I ended up spending most of my night in this room, which had a crowd that I felt a bit more home with. No waitresses in bathing suits, people who were actually decent at karaoke and choosing good songs... the karaoke room was most definitely my savior on this Wednesday evening.
Next time someone asks me to go to Hurricane Bay, I think my best bet would be to stay at home and stalk people on Facebook. Of course, there may be the chance that I am in the mood to be seriously shocked at the reality occurring at 43rd Ave. and Bell Road. Beware!
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