This just showed up in my inbox. Wow. Pretty sure I’ve tried to get off this mailing list about four times. It has been, ya know, five years since my college search, but apparently I’m still considered part of the inner circle of College Confidential. Come to think of it, this was the first birthday notice I got last year too. Whatev. Time for my Facebook notifications to blow up in 3…2…
That’s right folks, it’s my birthday. At the ripe old age of 22, I’m officially a post-college 20-something. Amid the endless barrage of “LET’S GET CRUNKKKKK” parties that leave the partygoers with no memories and huge hangovers, I’ve decided to keep it classy. So…*drum roll*…
I’m going to a speak-easy. A good old-fashioned “class it up, no disgustingly over-sugared or bro-y drinks here” speak-easy. I mean, since we’ve technically left the Prohibition era, it’s really a speak-easy-esque bar, but that’s not the point. Think old-timey drinks, art deco, and dapper folks. The Violet Hour comes highly recommended by a couple friends and, though I’ve heard there are long lines, it should be totally worth it.
From the list of “House Rules” on the website:
- No O-Bombs. No Jager-Bombs. No bombs of any kind.
- No Budweiser. No light beer. No Grey Goose. No Cosmopolitans.
- And finally, please do not bring anyone to The Violet Hour that you wouldn’t bring to your mother’s house for Sunday dinner.
Well okay then. Bring it.
Upon hearing the name, my mom’s first question was “Is that a gay bar?” No, mom, for once in my life, violet is not a code word for gay and I will be
spending my night starting my night* somewhere that doesn’t specifically scream RAINBOWS. That’s a first. Just going out with a couple lovely ladies for a classy, classic night on the town. Then again, we’ll be bringing the queer with us…as per ush.
*No guarantees about where I’ll end up…