A group of 9 of us went to the Pouge for some drinks, and while I, like any guy, loved the short kilts and $2.50 Rum and Coke's, this experience wasn't that great.
After a few drinks, one of my friends lined up Jager Bombs at the bar. While the bartender was clearing the empty glasses, she also grabbed a near full beer bottle and tossed the contents. She looked back at the beer's original owner and shrugged her shoulders and gave a petty "Sorry". No offer for another drink, no offer for a draft... nothing!
We asked for our bills, and one friend told the other female bartender that she wasn't getting a tip due to the incompetence of her co-worker. Well apparently you can't talk to staff that way, because as soon as he zeroed his tip line and signed his credit card slip, the bouncer grabbed him and tossed him out.
We all headed to Durty Nelly's to finish our last night in Halifax. Its too bad that one staff member made this business lose out on 9 customers, but if I ever go back to Halifax (and I'm sure I will), the Pouge is not on my list!
Okay. Toronto, deligtful place except: it is up to its eyeballs with hipsters, clubbers, scenesters, yuppies, and everyone else trying to out-cool the next guy, and thus has a stick up its you-know-what, and thus getting down with your bad self is often an effort wasted in a sea of swoopy-hair posers looking around to see if anyone is watching them breathe, seductively sip on their appletini or pbr, and toss their hair about (BTW, love this city, I am just saying).
Halifax. Getting down wiht your bad self is the only way Halifax knows how to get down. Of course no one told me so I went out in a trendy haircut, "ironic scarf" (horsies!!), and hooker-esque earrings (bricolage, you better believe I am in uni). You will see this demonstrated in photo 1 of this review. Saunter over to photo 2 and you will see scarf and earrings are in the purse (well you wont SEE the inside of my purse, but trust me) and I am so drunk on gin and tonic (STRONG!), singing along to cover bands, and shakin my tailfeather to hip hop circa 1996 that I cant even control my facial expressions.
The Pogue has found a genius mix. A cover band (a Halifax staple) which seems unaware that music continued past 2002 supported by a crowd of drunks, balanced out by a dj playing hits from jock jams. Joy. Joy. Joy.
Oh! One more phenonmenon. We were surrounded (or at least at a 1:1 ratio, which is nice) by mans just looking to dance. And I dont mean cop a feel while you dance. I mean dance. Dance offs. Moves you have never seen before. They dont stare at you and girlfriends when you are dancing. No, they out dance you and your girlfriends. The men in Halifax really are, just here to dance (Dane Cook anyone?).
Now travelers, nearly any bar in Halifax will charge you cover at night, though the Pogue will give you vouchers for two free admissions if your mug ends up on their website. And travelers, dont challenge a Halifax native to a drinking game or challenge. You will lose. I think these people invented, or at least perfected, partying.