Part review, part story.
Last Thursday, we had intended on drinks and an app at The Globe but when we entered, there was neither a table or bar stool to be had. I had never seen it that busy on a weeknight in years, if not ever. At this point, it was 9:45 PM and most bars in Red Bank close by 10. Dublin is open all night but not crazy about them and their kitchen closes early. Jamian’s popped up in my search, and being open late, off we went.
Jamian’s too was packed. Admittedly, it was good to see especially for a Thursday. No room at the bar, so grabbed a table facing the stage where a band was playing-- they were pretty good. So, Justin and I sat next to each other to watch the music, meaning there were two empty chairs at the table. Mind you, there were several open tables in this section.
Anyway, I order a martini, he had a Stella. We get the homemade potato chips with cheese sauce (both very good). About two sips into my drink, this 30ish woman comes over and asks what my drink is because she had “never seen such a glass ever at Jamian’s”. I say it was a martini and she proceeds to talk to me for ten minutes about whatever drunken ramblings were going through her mind about how she cannot handle straight liquor. Literally, every two minutes she apologized for interrupting us, took a step back as if to walk away, and then came forward again with more talking! She finally sits down at the table for a minute and then leaves. Justin looks at me and says, “You just have that face.” It is true. I don’t know what it is, if its the bar or even a supermarket, I become the target for random chatter. And as social as I can be, small talk with random strangers would probably be my punishment to endure in hell.
Twenty minutes pass, and another drunk woman in her 40’s asks if she could sit with us to watch the music. She could barely stand as it was so we said sure. Well, she ended up talking to Justin for nearly an hour! Boy, it was painful. Words slurred, every type of philosophical and political topics spewed forth from her mouth with Justin putting on an Oscar-worthy performance of “Oh wow”, “Right”, “Yeah”, and “That’s crazy”. She then spilled her “very expensive tequila” all over the table. I knew this was going to be one for the ages when she stopped mid-sentence and asked me if I sing in the shower.
Our server who really was excellent came over and asked me about 15 minutes into their “conversation” (as to not interrupt them) if she wanted me to have her “remove the woman”. I said no and that it was fine not realizing it would cost me an hour of my time. It was so bad that the Gordon Lightfoot covers they were singing actually sounded great. She finally stumbles away and says she needed to find her party. I looked at the waitress who was coming by, ordered another round, and then looked to Justin: “You just have that face.”
Ten minutes later, ANOTHER person sits down at our table but thankfully did not want to talk, but just listen to the music. People must have been looking at us like, “Who are these guys?”
Overall, I did enjoy the music. I did enjoy the vibes. My martini was good, the chips were good. Would I go back again? Yes, but it was such a strange environment. When we walked in, the crowd was mixed age-wise. But it actually got older as the night went on. Whatever space on the floor became filled with middle-aged Rands and Nances who danced the night away-- total cringe! But fun. Kind of!