Wang's (Boystown)
Needless to say when I walked in the gravity of the situation became immediately apparent because I, as always, had to pee. I walked through the bar (about the size of a studio apartment) and felt along the wall for the door knob. Once inside the bathroom it hit me - WANGS.
No, literally - I was visually barraged with image after image of dicks. They are plastered on all the walls, the door, the ceilings. It was dick for days and I had no idea why until halfway through my personal undertakings I saw the hook:
"Send cock pics to: wangschicago@gmail.com"
I was standing in a restroom covered in the genitalia of decades of former patrons. I stood in awe, thinking of how many men, like myself, were confused, curious, and then compelled to submit their dirty favorites so as to be immortalized on this... this wall of wieners!
Then I wondered what all the women thought when they walked in there.
The bar resembles an opium den - deep woods, ornate bar, it's pretty much totally red. There are a few small tables hidden in dark corners and, I can only assume, a lot of secrets hidden in the back-room. One of those joints that makes you feel like its midnight even when it's 3pm.
Needless to say I did not walk out with a Mogwai like I was hoping but I did have a great Karma martini. It was gin and Asian treats. There is no tap (*tear* for beer drinkers) and the cocktails are moderately priced ($8-$12), Asian-inspired, and incorporate lotus, ginger, etc etc.
I'd go back. In fact, I have to go back... Otherwise I'll never see if I made the cut.
Or uncut.
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