30 to Midnight

Earl's Beer & Cheese, Upper East Side

Wednesday, 6pm

Earl's Beer & Cheese
1259 Park Ave. (97th St.), Manhattan

The lefthandedmale scratch on the chalkboard was a big hint as to the Appropriateness of Earl's. Eek. We over-30 like to be able to read the menu, and happiness is surely linked to aesthetics nomatter your age. Perhaps acknowledgement of, however, is the issue. But misfitted counters are undoubtedly part of the 'design' here so who are we to judge. Plus, alls we cares about is the peoples. That said, to the chagrin of the staff, "since The New York Times article came out" there are many Age Appropriate moments at Earl's. Otherwise, says the staff, the patrons are cool. Ha ha. We saw grad students (AI) and a professor or two (AA). Staff says late night it's med students; happy hour is hospital employees and "people with beards". So, we're deeming Earl's a high risk venture. Best case scenario, you get lucky and have time for a quick beer (good selection of 4) and a beer cheese (toast with oil, raw garlic rub, pimento cheese; good, really) before the students and beards crowd the teeny space.

Robert at the Museum of Arts and Design, West Side

Friday, 8pm

Robert
museum of arts and design
2 Columbus Circle (8th Ave.), Manhattan

Generally we limit our ageism to justabouteveryoneyounger. Today we're expanding our range. The crowd at Robert, the neon-y restaurant with the insane view of Columbus Circle and the park, is really old. Really old, like bus from a nursing home old. Why? Such an unexpected Friday night site. You'd see what we were saying if Sara could ever learn to take a picture. We wanted to sit by a window and never look back, but those seats were taken and the "bar" is awkward, unexpected in a venue with "design" in its name. We hate to be so negative but our expectations were not met here. Sad. That said, true to our rules, we're calling Robert AA. Stop by if you're looking for someone to call gran.

Pegu Club, SoHo

Monday, 10pm

Pegu Club
77 W. Houston St. (W. Broadway), Manhattan

One thing about Pegu Club, and we mean this in praise, is it makes us want to smoke. Cigarettes. Really. And we're trying not to do that anymore. In fact, it's been months since we had even a drag. But there's something about Pegu Club on a weeknight...oh, yes...definitely a weeknight to enjoy the place...that makes us crave...well, we already said it. It must be the cocktails.

Another thing about Pegu Club, and other places that do not appeal to AA's, is what are people thinking coming in groups of seven and ten and any number that constitues a group? Parties, fine, but going out for a drink? Sheesh. This reminds us that we really owe you an analysis of what works when you're going out seeking future entertainment. Simply put: Groups of two. Go out with one friend if you're seeking a new friend.

Note: words in italics are not straightforward.

Weather Up, Prospect Heights

Friday, 9pm

Weather Up
589 Vanderbilt Ave. (Dean St.), Brooklyn

Initially, upon entering this unmarked bar (589 appears above the door in sticker form), our hopes were high. We were excited by the tile and the funky ceiling and the amazing bar stools. Photos of the stools are unavailable because the lights were dimmed to the level of hallway findthebathroom nightlight. That made it hard to read the menu. Not that there was any rush for time.

Like most bars that consider their bartenders to be chefs, service is protracted here. We don't know any kitchens that would tolerate that sort of pace, not even at home, but that's another story. They were out of mint for the Old Cuban (aka a mojito with champagne) so we waited 25 minutes while the bartender made two other drinks before returning to see what was our second choice. If you can't get drinks out more efficiently, get another guy behind the bar, or let that barback girl do something more than watch. Sheesh. Confused by the business model here.

In terms of Age, the crowd was mostly Appropriate, and partially bearded. One definitely Appropriate man engaged us as we were heading out.
"You're leaving?" he asked.
We expected him to flirtily ask why or ask us to stay after we said Yes.
Instead he said, "Oh great! Can I have your seat?"
To which Sara replied, "No."
He was momentarily confused. Maybe because the acoustics in there are terrible, or maybe because he's not clever or interesting, or maybe because they slightly turned up the lights and we didn't look so good anymore. We'll never know. 

In case you noticed that this picture is somewhat better than our usual..it was taken by The Tileist, one of many smart, creative, incredible friends.

Sweet Paradise Lounge, Lower East Side

Thursday, 10:30pm

Sweet Paradise
14 Orchard St. (Hester St.), Manhattan

We can't figure out Sweet Paradise is a divey or a designy bar, and we like that confusion. We also can't figure out what happened to our picture. If we had that picture you could see the shelves showcasing candy, a memory of the location's previous tenant (maybe they should put some socks up there too). Anyway, because this place is owned by the Welcome to the Johnsons people we expected AIs in abundance, but that's the difference between weekdays and weekends, and Orchard and Rivington: Room for AAs.

Bongo, West Village

Wednesday, 7:15pm

Bongo
West St. (W. 10th St.), Manhattan

Three different rooms and hardly anyone to fill them, though those inside are AA. We're not into the eclectic barware (don't serve a sauvignon blanc in a heavy, thick, purple, glass goblet) or the mixed drinks (don't throw all the pith and rind into the blender when an ingredient is grapefruit; don't use club soda when tonic was requested) or some of the service (don't tell us a credit card is denied if you only tried once). But the lobster salad on tiny dinner rolls are addictive and the cole slaw that accompanies the platter is fantastic. That said, the menu is hard to open (bad clasp placement) and feels dirty. Wow does this sound super negative when really we were thinking we'd like to host a party at the new Bongo, in either the front, blueish room that somewhat resembles a lobby, or the smaller, back, reddish room that's more living room-like?

pictured: chardonnay in a glass with a flipped over rim like a vase, or a collar.

Lillie's, Flatiron

Friday, 7:15pm (and, Tuesday, 7:15pm)

Lillie's
13 E. 17th St. (Fifth Ave.), Manhattan

This "Victorian" bar (and restaurant) is a melting pot of mostly Age InAppropriates. We love the multigeneousness (suits, porkpie hats, flimsy tanktops, kurt cobain, holly golightly) but we wish we could raise the age. Hostess tells us Thursdays to Sundays are packed with late-20's and early 30's, well into the night. We can attest to a pretty full house, and similarly dissimilar crowd, when we stopped in.

Chloe 81, Lower East Side

Wednesday, 11pm

Chloe 81
81 Ludlow St. (Delancey), Manhattan

Chloe 81 is a shining example of Age InAppropriateness. This is a place where 26 year-olds in white pegged jeans huddle, constantly reassuring one other that it is, in fact, cool to stand around in a small, dank basement reminiscent of a Latvian prison swim club’s dressing area (as our friend Tony says). It's not even AA Before Midnight here. 

Warren 77, Tribeca

Wednesday, 11pm

Warren 77
77 Warren St. (W. Broadway), Manhattan

"The men here are not in tights, if you know what I mean," said a 27-year-old who told us her name was Jesse yet answered to Anna when her companion called. We don't know that means but we do know we liked Warren 77's post-game vibe, which smelled deliciously like someone getting high (in an open window seat) and garlic (dinners still on tables). And we dig the giant green banquettes with their semi-private flat-screens. We'll be back for sports. Bartender says the crowd is consistently 20's and 30's, many Beatrice Inn-ers. That said, we don't feel old, but we will leave by midnight.

Note: Warren 77 closes at 1am.

Brass Monkey, Meatpacking District

Saturday, 7pm

Brass Monkey
55 Little West 12th St. (Washington St.), Manhattan

We were greeted by an encouragingly chill first-floor crowd in their 30's, eating and watching sports. On the roof deck, however, the party was in full swing. According to the 20-something server, these more boisterous ones had been at it for a couple hours already. Lucky for us, some early boozers bailed, abandoning their spots on the cushy bench—just in time for us to catch the sunset. At some point, our view was blocked by picture-posing girls in foofy dresses. It was obviously time for us to go.
-Amy B.