I hate being poor. It means you have to drink faster.
Last night, Bonnie, Greg, and I went to drinks and dinner at Rex on Polk Street. Rex has an awesome happy hour from 5-7pm, consisting of $3 wine, well, beer, and appetizers. As we rolled in at 6:37pm, we had to hustle. We ordered our first round of wine and perused the menu. At 6:49pm, Greg, noting the rapidly approaching end to cheap drinks, hollers, "Drink up, Ladies. Time is of the essence."
I guess during the last 15 minutes of Happy Hour, every Rex staff member disappears, in some vain attempt to keep patrons from fully taking advantage of their much advertised offer. Rex didn't know who they were dealing with however, or so we thought, as Greg tackled some hostess and got us another round. In just under the wire at 6:52pm, we were quite pleased with ourselves.
When the bill arrived, we found, to our dismay, we had been charged full price for the last round of drinks. Not cool. As we didn't want to get into a huge confrontational argument with Emily, our 8 chinned waitress, Greg simply deducted the difference from her tip. Nice.
The thing is, Rex has good drinks, superb food, a cool vibe, and all kinds of good deals, depending on the day of the week. I'm not going to write off this great spot because they screwed us out of 6 bucks. But I do want revenge, however. Thus I propose this: I want 20 of my nearest and dearest to saddle up to the Rex bar at 6:55pm and order every happy hour special they're offering. We'll call it the "Happy Minute" and it will piss Emily off.