Ah, senior year - that legendary and supposedly idyllic time that this Lush has dreamed of for the last three years. All those nights of taking not-so-covert shots in dorm rooms, sweating in dirty frat basements, handing over the fake ID with sweaty palms, and one near-arrest at the Sheraton Boston Hotel Bar were in preparation for this.
Sadly, senior year - the all-fun-all-the-time version - has been a little lacking for my roommates and me. We have fallen into a routine of making plans but then instead settling for Beirut in our dryer-sheet/stale Natty Ice-scented basement several nights a week.
We were a disgrace to the name 'senior.' We did not deserve our valid 21+ driver's licenses. But last week we vowed to change our ways.
We set out on Saturday night for Daisy Buchanan's, a small bar under Ciao Bella! Restaurant on Newbury Street. There has been a special place in my heart for Daisy's for some years now, it being the first place I ever used my now-defunct fake ID, and now it was time to introduce my roommates to my temple of drinking.
The night started out a little weakly, however, as we realized about five minutes into our T ride that we should have brought some refreshments for the trip. By the time we made it to the door, we were feeling a little sleepy and far too sober. But the line-free, cover-free and, therefore, incredibly speedy entry into the bar made me feel a little better. Quick entry equals quick access to booze, and also facilitated our getaway from the sketchballs toting see-through backpacks full of condoms that chatted us up all the way down Newbury St.
Daisy's was already pretty busy by the time we got there. It's not a huge bar so crowd control is key, and as usual, the excellent bar staff did their job well on Saturday. The bar was always full but never to the point where there is constantly an elbow in your face and a hand on your butt. Luckily the bar's small size usually is not noticeable, unless, like me, you have a roommate with a bladder the size of a pea and are stuck squeezing your way through the back room to get to the bathrooms (which leave much to be desired).
On this particular night, Daisy's was packed with the remnants of a depressed (and drunk) Red Sox Nation drowning their sorrows after a loss to the Yankees (easily remedied by a win the next day), although sadly, no actual Sox. It is not uncommon to see athletes from Boston's professional teams in Daisy's on any given night; we just weren't so lucky this time.
Eventually we decided that a round of shots and a pep talk was in order because we were still being pretty boring. I even got called out by someone from across the bar for yawning. It still took us a little while to come out of our shells. One of the Lush's party was drinking too slowly, another was getting hit on by a very drunk and very incoherent fifty year old man, and yours truly, being totally dependent on the old debit card, was still bitter about the fact that the bar was cash-only (there is, however, an ATM in the back room).
As the buzz set in we did a lap, half to escape sketchy man and half, and in true girl fashion, to find someone to buy drinks for us. Daisy's tends to support an eclectic mix of people on most nights. Its best quality is that, although it is located on Newbury St., it is decidedly un-Newbury; there's nothing trendy or glamorous about Daisy's. Nothing expensive or fancy, just a good old-fashioned bar where locals, the after-work crowd, regulars, college students, randy twenty-somethings and randier thirty-somethings mingle to all your favorite eighties, nineties and present-day Top Forty classics. During the evening in question, our favorite fellow drinkers were what we thought was a family, but turned out to be much more like a wannabe Hugh Hefner and his seven or eight blond lady friends, at least two of whom spent the majority of the time sitting on "Hef's" lap.
Once we spotted Hef, there was no stopping our good time. There's no denying it, we were in excellent moods, aided by several factors. First, Journey came on over the speakers (how can you NOT have a good time when Journey is on the stereo?). Second, we discovered the cute bartender and his willingness to distribute free shots. And third, we got a very large bouncer to bounce an old, sketchy guy right out of the building, although sightings were reported later - they remain unconfirmed due to the intoxication of the sighters.
Daisy's being the pick-up bar that it is, finding male attention and the accompanying free drinks that came with it was not difficult. We comfortably settled into a long evening of trying to convince cute bartender to do the dance from the start of Cocktail, avoiding the advances of Awkward Red Sweater Guy and Guy with a Backpack Full of Beer (a la freshman year), and stealing the orange slices from the drink garnish tray on the bar.
A trip to Daisy Buchanan's was just the ticket this Lush needed for a proverbial ticket back from senior year lameness. Everything I love about this bar was reaffirmed - great staff, laid-back atmosphere, good tunes, friendly clientele and most importantly, for this Lush is cheaper than cheap, affordability.
This is the bar for you no matter what you're looking for - whether it is to break out of a rut, see some Red Sox, or get some phone numbers - just so long as you aren't looking for a typical, chichi Newbury bar.
