In other cities, like Brooklyn or Boston, there is a concept known as “The Neighborhood Bar”. Such a venue, also referred to as a “dive bar” is a casual, low-key, unpretentious bar a short distance from one’s house. The drinks are typically cheap, the atmosphere friendly, and (shocker) it is socially acceptable to show up by yourself.

I love this concept: my neighborhood feels otherwise. Two blocks south of my house lives Parc, Bella, Le Deux, Mood, Opera and Geisha House. I can’t imagine the looks I would get if I walked down the street in leggings and a sweatshirt and took a seat by the bartender at Le Deux and struck up a conversation about the brews on tap. Now this is not fault of the establishments itself: I am merely complaining because I would like a place to be able to do such a thing. It would defeat the idea of a “Neighborhood Bar” to drive a bit east or further south, especially when in Hollywood a distance of one mile can take approximately ½ an hour to traverse.

These bars cater to tourists, couples on awkward dates, and parties, so on any given night when walking home I am constantly dodging taxis, limos and girls in trashy miniskirts from Forever 21. I dodge some nasty looks as well: DON’T TAKE UP SO MUCH SIDEWALK, GIRL IN JEANS AND FLATS WITH NO MAKEUP.

Last weekend an old friend of mine, we will call him Michael, told me he was meeting people at the Geisha House for a birthday party of, surprise, a girl he didn’t know. Did I want to come? The proximity of my studio to Geisha House made the offer incredibly appealing. I could just walk down the street! The walk was so short, I could even wear heels!

If you have never lived in Hollywood, I need to explain a few things. Parking is difficult from 4:30pm through 10am, daily. By difficult I mean impossible. There are some meters (which are patrolled constantly), a few expensive flat-rate lots, and many taxi and tour bus loading zones which ARE NOT TO BE STOPPED AT, EVEN FOR A SECOND, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING NICE HOMELY PERSON JUST TRYING TO UNLOAD GROCERIES. So once a Hollywood resident finds a parking spot, he does not go anywhere that would involve driving for a few days in order to bask in the glory of actually having his car parked in a place that does not cost money.

And on this weekend night when Michael called, my car was indeed in one of these spots. Huzzah. I was thrilled to accept his invitation and join the ranks of “those that party on Hollywood Boulevard” as opposed to “those that sit and complain in apartment on Hollywood Boulevard”.

The Geisha House was loud, flashy and packed. Upstairs, where I spent most of the night, was pretty much standing room only. It is technically open air (I suppose a 2 foot space in between wall and ceiling counts) and therefore people can smoke. Getting drinks took a while, and the bartenders all wear these ugly red wifebeaters that have a slit down the center. This is not their fault, and I tried not to hold it against them as I shelled out $20 for a glass of house wine and a gin and tonic.

The crowd was either gross mid 20s “dudes” who flirt by staring at you for an extended period of time but don’t approach you, or out-of-towners clicking the shutter on their disposable cameras, like, 50 times a minute. I have a slight feeling these out-of-towners hail from Orange County, or Thousand Oaks. Michael and I huddled at a table in the corner that was not being used, and were politely attended to by servers checking to see if we wanted more drinks. We did.

I walked home after two hours or so, thrilled that I was supporting neighborhood businesses. Even more thrilled that I was only two blocks away from my large, comfy bed. Geisha House, I don’t think I’ll ever become a regular, but it was a decent Saturday night.

Though, I am still moving on April 1st.

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