Happy Hour Scene: Little Woodrow's
The Place: Little Woodrow's
Photo by Craig Hlavaty
The Hours: 2 to 7 p.m. Mondays through Fridays.
The Deals: $.25 off domestics, plus much deeper discounts on daily specials.
The Scene: "I wonder what Cradle of Filth is doing in there right now?" I said.
My colleague Craig Hlavaty and I were having a happy hour beer at Little Woodrows and watching through tall windows a line form outside the closed doors of Warehouse Live, where the English metal band was set to play that night.
"Eating dinner?" he guessed. "Eating spaghetti."
For a band that generated controversy with a T-shirt featuring a topless masturbating nun and the phrase "Jesus is a cunt," the people-watching had surprisingly few highlights: cage-fighters who'd chosen giant lats over the ability to swing their arms while walking, dudes who thought basketball shorts would be appropriate for 30-degree weather, girls in cartoon goth boots, one smart 10-year-old who brought her blankie from home.
Inside the large bar was a predictably different scene. There were only a few people hanging around, which may have been owed to the cold. This Little Woodrow's has the kind of location, calculatedly casual atmosphere and drink specials (the new outpost of the chain serves liquor, too) to attract a professional and college crowd to happy hour. The patio will get plenty of use when the weather warms up. And it might not be the kind of bar I'd normally visit, but if I were going to Warehouse Live and wanted a pre-show drink - or, like the middle-aged CoF fan in the tight faded jeans and white Reeboks who stopped by, a warm place to pee - Woodrow's would probably be a more relaxed option than Lucky's.
Halfway through our cheap 23-ounce beers (Tuesday's special), things got even mellower when someone put Belle and Sebastian on the Internet jukebox. The waitress split time between checking on customers and playing the crack machine at the bar. On a side note, ladies, being attractive and sitting alone at the bar playing the video game set is like some tractor beam that draws me in and forces me to talk to you. I have no idea why or whether I'm alone in this.
Lucky for the waitress, though, Craig and I had dinner plans, so we finished our beers, put on our coats, lowered our heads and walked to the car.