“Americans are forever searching for love in forms it never takes, in places it can never be. It must have something to do with the vanished frontier.”
-Kurt Vonnegut, astute observer of middle-American existence in his novel Cat’s Cradle
Whether or not you believe this phrase to be a defining piece of our national identity, one simple fact is undeniable: we very often look for romance in the wrong places.
Sometimes we look for it in places like Red Ivy, and that is a damn mistake. I had the misfortune of attending this place on a Saturday evening in early fall, and am convinced that the only difference between this establishment and the grimy, very shallow bars that I mostly tried to avoid in college is… well nothing actually. It’s exactly the same, only twice as expensive. Also, there is an astounding amount of free colognes, mints and gum in the men’s bathroom.
I would come kick it at Red Ivy if you like any of the following:
-Club music blasting so hard you can’t hold a conversation
-Guys and girls awkwardly humping each other for lack of the ability to do anything else to the music being played
- A mysterious lack of any ugly people
Boys and girls in America really are a sad sight together at this bar. I know that these places are way popular and that a large portion of the bar industry now revolves around places like this, but that can’t stop me from posting this little piece of public disapproval.
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