Stamford Summer Bar Tour [15] - Hula Hank's

Ah, Hula Hanks, back alley brother to Black Bear. Same owner, interchangeable staff, and I’m even pretty sure a shared kitchen. Shark Bites… Bear Bites… who you fooling. (Joey K, am I right?)

Hula Hanks is your friend who always has a crazy night you hear about never participate in.

“Dude, did I tell you about Thursday? Jack Nicholson & I rode around in a spaceship and hooked up with some unicorns!” Meanwhile, whenever you hang out with him its pounding Millers and talking about Lost.

Sure Hula has a stripper pole on the bar and a swing, but I’ve never seen them used. Then again, I’ve only really been there for Happy Hours when the place is stocked with a couple random groups of awkward businessmen. Maybe night fall brings out the super orgy porno party. At that point I’m usually turned away by the cover. God I hate the bar cover that offers one nothing more than the privilege of walking in the door and red stamp reminder you can ponder during a hangover. I’m no anthropologist, but refusal to pay covers is obviously some sort of evolutionary vestige of one’s college days. Other once import survival traits may have faded, I may start yawning around 12 but dammit I can’t shake the cheapness of being pissed about putting down $5 without being handed a beverage in return at a bar. It’s less the price though as it is making a commitment to endure whatever potential suck lies beyond those gates for a period of time deemed by the group comparable to the cover price. Of course you can always turn from the door at first word of a cover but one must weigh the possible shame incurred in front of one’s peers in taking this course of action. If you’re quick on your feet, that can easily be countered though by acting in some exaggerated way how cool you suddenly realize you are for the joint (even after waiting in line) and dismiss the thought of paying to enter this dump (that less than seconds ago you were excited about).

Stay funky Hula Hanks.