by Ki G. on Holy crap. Those were the words that came out of my mouth when I went in to use the restroom (no pun intended). The view was amazing, and while it was weird to "do your business" while exposed to the world (literally), I figured I was high enough above the rest of the world to not worry. Right? Bathrooms aside, this is a gorgeous space. Worthy of a film premiere after party, which was the reason why I was there (saw The Fighter...and some of the cast afterward). It was gorgeous, sexy decor, wonderful wait staff who passed hors d'oeuvres to me and my hungry friend continually, hella-well-made cocktails and hella-well-made bartenders who made them. The floor to ceiling windows I encountered unexpectedly in the loo, were prominently displaying the NYC skyline in the lounge area as well. I don't go to these kinds of places anymore, but I like being a +1 and brought to them when the occasion comes up! I'm a fan!
by Nathaniel F. on This bar might be more aptly named Dbag: land of the alpha gays. I like a good pub-like gay bar as much as the next homo, but call it what it is, please. Don't put tacky color changing lights all over the walls and blast asinine music directly into my ears. If I'm not mistaken, all we homos like to hear when we go out are dance remixes of five-year-old R&B hits. It's time to diversify, people! And what gay bar doesn't have a disco ball? Betch please! And let's talk about gentrification. Of course, every non-affluent neighborhood in Boston would be so lucky to be blessed with the presence of a place like the Dbag. Once the gays move in you know it wont be long before the neighborhood is full of breeders pushing around baby strollers. Maybe then the city will finally install bike lanes on Dorchester ave. The presence of a parking lot, and the fact that one must enter the bar only through the parking lot entrance, really minimizes the chance of encountering any unsavory Dorchester locals. But I digress. My outrage at the Dbag was ultimately sparked by the presence of some strange sweet liqueur in my martini. If you do not know that a martini should contain ONLY gin and a small portion of vermouth, you have absolutely no business making drinks for paying customers. Unforgivable. Perhaps the establishment assumes that we homos only like teeth-rotteningly sweet drinks. Ultimately, this is the bar I would come to if I were looking for a husband to buy a South End condo and raise labradoodle puppies with. Until then I will hold onto my integrity, thank you very much.
