Getting thrown out

I hate it when I cross paths with someone on a power trip. Tonight I was at a bar called the Charleston. It is a quiet neighborhood bar at the corner of Charleston and N. Hoyne. Most nights I've been there they have some jazz combo playing, which is a big plus. Tonight my girlfriend Emily had forgotten her ID, but we had already been to another bar down the street with no problems so it was a surprise when the scraggeldy looking woman behind the counter carded her without carding rest of us. Then she made a big production out of it and acted like even letting Emily, who is 28, stay at this empty bar with a lousy beer selection was a big favor to us. We stayed, got beers, and after 30 minutes decided it would be ok to buy a drink for Emily. 5 minutes later Miss Scraggeldy the bartender came over and grabbed all our drinks and told us we had to leave. I was thunderstruck and couldn't think of anything to say. She acted angry, made no pretence of it being her duty to ask us to leave, and took extreme pleasure in making the whole table of us uncomfortable as she threw us out. We went outside feeling more than a bit foolish for being so polite to this $6.50 an hour tyrant, even as she kicked us out for doing nothing more than circumventing a silly rule. It was a sour note to end the night on, and my bike squeaked mournfully the whole way home. Later, I realized that our retreat from the scene could have been much more fun if my wits had been with me. I could have jumped up as she tried to grab the lousy beer from my hand and screamed indignantly, "Excuse ME madame, I most certainly will NOT make out with you!" Then I could have poured the rest of my beer symbolicly onto the floor and left. What could she have done? I would have been gone before the counter-attack, and it would have broken the spell that mean old puke-mopping witch put on us.

I don't usually do reviews of bars here, so this is a first, but I would recommend the Charleston to anyone in Bucktown looking for a chilled out bar. Make sure you bring your ID, and tell the scraggeldy woman behind the counter to keep her bad attitude and smelly paws to herself. The hex she puts on you will wear off eventually.