Upon entering the rumor was confirmed, but more questions sprang to the bloggers' minds about the identity of the bar. The windows are decorated with neon beer logos, contradictory to the dinning room and entranceway, which is decorated with snow white table cloths and napkins. The adjacent room, with the neon windows, is finished like an Irish/Italian/Klingon bar. A portrait of Warf gazes across the room into Sinatra's baby blues. A rather androgynous velvet Elvis stands guard over the room, add a mole and you have a masculine Marilyn Monroe.
Ladies Night at Olde School is an opportunity to share a karaoke microphone and five dollar Stoli drinks with physics teachers and other people who have failed Hans and Mendez. The badly butchered songs played on in the background as the bloggers thought of revenge and if Miss ________ from junior high still had that plump ass. Hans and Mendez spent many afternoons in detention "accidentally" dropping pencils. Mendez grimaced thinking of how he has been tricked, humiliated, and unwantfully bedded by the education system, one unprestigious New Haven university in particular. Where are the jobs? I hate sharing a bunk bed with this clown Hans, never mind our toothbrush. Before shoveling the driveways of their winter's discontent the bloggers had to eat. They sat at the bar drinking Cape-coders. The perk of Ladies Night is this surprising drink special where after three drinks your balls are so big you will sing "Margaritaville."
The bloggers ordered Oysters Casino, Olde School Nachoes and Stuffed Mushrooms. The bloggers initially scoffed at the Nachos. They thought back to dozens of nachos, from bowling alleys to pubs: some boasting buffalo chicken, others, twenty-four different types of corn chips, all tasting like bovine feed and texturally equivalent to a gag rubber-chicken. Skeptically they took their first bite. Soon after the bloggers stopped biting and chewing all together, and fought for the cheesiest chip, throwing sour cream to defend their claims to sausage. The gorgonzola and mozzarella cheese melted deliciously together. Bits of sausage with hot and sweet peppers made for a flavorful eat. The mushrooms are stuffed with crabmeat and cream cheese, fit for a cocktail party. All of these items are part of Ladies Night five dollars special and taste better than the menu's description.
"Mendez, when are you going to grab the mic and speak your mind," Hans chided Mendez who stewed in silence as teachers mingled about laughing. A lone nun sat in the corner filing her meter stick for maximum knuckle smacking. "Aren't you sick of these teachers holding all the answers to life in their teacher's editions? Are we just to sit here and watch these professional liars celebrate? Mendez, look like the innocent blogger, but grab the mic and let loose the devil underneath."
Mendez thought back to his childhood: the endless detentions and five paragraph essays as to why he would not blog about the cafeteria's deficiencies. "But I wanna blog!" he whined in protest. More essays and more discipline followed, but the essays made him stronger. He wrote his reviews wearing bear skin briefs likening his punishment to Conan laboring, turning that giant mill. Soon Mendez would become strong enough to break free from bondage.
"I asked you to write about what you did this summer, Mendez. You wrote three pages about the hot dog stand at Epcot, I just don't know what to do with you anymore. Why don't you you blog about your afternoon in the principal's office." Mendez walked down to the office. He sat next to a young student who was using an Etch-a-Sketch as a writing device.
"Hi, my name is Mendez."
"I'm Hans, wanna read my review of Chuck E. Cheese? Care for a candy spliff?"
"This is why we met," Mendez said to Hans, who was licking the Nacho plate. "Revenge. Tonight we sing, tomorrow we blog."
They shoved a librarian out of the way, chalk dust all over her face and hands. "Key of E and make it snappy," Hans ordered the D.J. Mendez spun his microphone. The countdown for the song's first note began. They sang. They sang with power, with force, and with a pure passion. They sang for revenge.
"We shall blog!" they shouted into the microphones. Vodka filled glasses shattered at the utterance of self-publishing. The educator's faces started to melt, revealing monstrous pus covered creatures. The bartender didn't blink at the physical changes long accustomed to bar patrons like these. Gym teachers kept their stoic mugs for they are ignorant to publishing and technology apart from the lanyard and whistle. Mendez let out a "Whooo" Hans began to sing, "Turn around, every now and then I fall apart." Mendez picked it up, "And I need you more than ever." They sang. Hans and Mendez were avenged and this is their blog.
After they had their revenge they sat back at the bar. "That was really something," the bartender winked while patrons did their best to reattach their faces. "Oh, and this round is on Miss_____." The boys turned, Miss__________ raised her glass, the boys did the same. Life has changed since their school days: the blog has taken off, virginities have been lost, but Miss______ still has that plump ass.
ADDENDUM:
Because Hans and Mendez kick ass and forget names, they won the karaoke contest. Given a choice between beheading a teacher of their choice OR a surf and turf luncheon, the bloggers went with the food. This is the review of their victory:
Hans and Mendez slid up to the bar and ordered the Coldplay song to stop. Bloggers need absolute concentration because blogging is a rough path to walk. You never know when a Yelper will attack from behind during a dinner. One of their blogging buddies was choked with a napkin ring days earlier. The waiters follow the awful code of "No Snitching." Anyone who has information in regards to the death of Funtime Frank, of Funtime Franks Fantasy Food review should e-mail us.
The surf and turf is not served on a gold plate but its free. It's also, yet again, surprisingly good. Hans has never tasted a better steak than Olde School's. It is disconcerting to have a lobster stare at you, no mater if it is dead and delicious. The prize surf and turf was served with sautéed broccoli rabe and our choice of French, yucca, or sweet potato fries. We chose the yucca fries and chose well.
Old School is a great addition to the New Haven food scene. It is still new and has some kinks in its image, but the food and staff are there. Teachers' bar or not we hope to see Olde School flourish, the food is too good for the restaurant not to.
