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| - I was here late on a Friday night as DD for 4 single friends.
The staff was attentive. {needle rips across record} Let's not talk about that irrelevant stuff... Food and service are after thoughts here. Perhaps it's not this way on other nights, but the Sandbar was pure hookup joint while I was there. Target M-effin Rich baby, beyond anything I have ever experienced. If you are single and looking, suit up and head over. But you better be prepared. Folks were leaving 2-by-2, like there was an Ark in the parking lot.
I was just shaking my head the whole time. Happily married, alcohol-dry... this was not my element fo sho.
From a purely sociological point of view, the Earth could have been repopulated from this restaurant alone, and in short order. Holy Moley! There was something or someone for everyone.
Entrepreneurial ideas were rampant in my head. How much money could I make if I park an Airstream RV in the parking lot, and rent it 30 minutes at a time. Can I partition the RV 3 or 4 times to maximize the transactions per hour? How many personnel do I need for rapid turnover and quality/hygiene? What're the sheet, bleach, and Lysol consumption rates? Maybe I rent 25 minutes at a time. It's amazing that beautiful woman can't pry her eyes from that guy's crotch. What planet am I on? No, thank you, I'm with these knuckleheads.
Truly, these are the crazy things that run through a married man's head in a situation such as this. Was there food? Sure. They were grilling carne and pollo asado and it smelled damn good but my baby sitting responsibilities did not afford me the opportunity to try it.
Don't believe me? Check it out.
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