3209 E. Colfax Ave. Denver, CO 80206
The R Bar is the perfect little place to say good-bye to those of you I will be leaving behind shortly. Here is what I love about this happy hour.
1) It is teeny and there aren't a ton of people because you cannot fit very many people in the bar.
2) There is always a draft beer special, a wine special and a fancy cocktail special. The food is pretty good too. It is definitely great for happy hour dining. We had fried calamari (which again is kind of a WTF for Denver) but was good enough and fried green tomatoes, because obviously my body is my temple and I only put the finest ingredients of health inside it. In the grand scheme of things, I really don't care since this was a pre-pocolypse party, I figured I would be a little drunk and well fed, and I have seen that Albert Brooks / Meryl Streep movie where they go to heaven and Meryl Streep is eating a shiltload of pasta and Albert Brooks is all "That is so unhealthy and Meryl is all - there are no stomachs!" Or something like that. I don't remember the exact details, but I was uncomfortable with the amount of public transportation in that film's portrayal of heaven. My heaven is one without small talk which means no public transportation thankyouverymuch.
Ok, so we get it. This place is pretty good but here is something I found very strange and I think you will agree that there is a strange pattern with motherfuckery waiters in this town. So the website says happy hour is from 4-7 and the menu says 4-7 and there was a sign on the door that says happy hour begins at 4 and ends at 7 -which brought me to the conclusion that one could purchase happy hour beverages at the happy hour prices until 7pm. My friend orders a drink at 6:35 and this waiter says that happy hour ends at 6:35pm. WHAT THE FUCK? Why does everyone who works in the service industry have to be such a megabitch all the time? ALL WE WANT IS WHAT WE ORDERED AT THE PRICES YOU PROMISED US - or what I refer to as the new social contract theory which states we are under an un-written social contract that I will not hurt you if you give me the booze and food you promised me at the happy hour prices on the goddamn front door you anus. Of course I am being all complainy about it now - but when it happened, my first reaction was - maybe I read it wrong? on the website, on the door, on the menu. No, I didn't. Luckily we got it all worked out but this waiter needs to watch it. If he tries to pull the old banana in the tailpipe trick again I will go apeshit. I will be honest with you. I won't. I am so all talk. I will probably sulk in the corner but I will never say anything. I am a southern lady with southern lady manners, should the southern lady I be compared to be one of those southern ladies on the Real Housewives of Atlanta.
Summary - Please don't go to R Bar because I don't want it to be crowded the next time I have my Big Raptcha Pahty.
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