Volume 4, Issue 15
July 24 - August 7, 2002
by Delilah Delish
1600 17th Avenue, Denver
303-628-5400
I am uncharacteristically late, so I'm rushing to the Cruise Room, a beautiful cocktail bar built in the 1930s in the Oxford Hotel. I'm sweating from moving too quickly and from the nervousness pulsing in my stomach. It's been a while since my last date and a blind internet date doesn't exactly seem like the best way to jump back into the game.
Pulling open the frosted glass door of the Cruise Room I immediately recognize 'Tim,' a recent Denver transplant from England from his online photo. He's tall, and wiry as only dedicated bicyclists are, with adorable spiky hair, and an easy smile. He leads me to one of the oversize curved booths near the jukebox, which is spinning tunes that patrons of this bar's early days would recognize.
We start out with drinks, he gets a Gin Gimlet and I order my favorite, a Side Car, up. I love the drinks at the Cruise Room--I can order any antiquated retro drink and am never questioned about what goes in it, or asked, "What the hell is that?" Our waitress brings the drinks and pours them at the table, leaving the shakers with us to finish off, another big plus for drinking at the Cruise Room. Their drinks are the same price as anywhere else in Lodo, but they leave the shaker, so you get 1-2 drinks per order.
I'm still a little nervous and so I dive into my Side Car. It's a perfect blend of lemon, top shelf brandy and Cointreau triple sec with a little sugar around the rim. As I drink, 'Tim' immediately complements me on my outfit, my vintage hairdo, and begins to tell me about where he's from and what he does for a living. He's actually fairly interesting, and though he has a technology job I don't quite understand, we share other interests in common.
The Side Car goes down easy, maybe a little too easy. I'm feeling a little tipsy as I empty the shaker into my glass. We order 2 more drinks, and I decide that if I'm hoping to make it through this date without passing out, I'd better get some food into my stomach. We order the baked brie with garlic, mussels in Thai curry broth, and the seared ahi on wonton crackers. We delve into the subject of art, and I'm impressed that when I throw out an artist's name, he not only knows who they are, but has an informed opinion about them.
It's at this point that I notice a little tic that he seems to have. His eyes, though mostly meeting mine, flick away from my eyes once or twice a minute, and land briefly on my chest, like he's stealing a look--constantly. I'm sort of flattered, but rather confused. I'm not particularly well endowed, so it starts to worry me that he's some-how completely starved for girl-flesh.
I try to stop thinking about it, turning away from his roving eyes to watch the gorgeous spread of appetizers arriving at the table. I start with the brie and garlic, taking a generous knife-full of the perfectly soft cheese, and a half clove of the roasted garlic which slips from the skin and spreads easily into the brie. The combination--on what tastes like fresh homemade bread--is delicious. Next I crack open the first mussel and bite into its flavorful, juicy meat, swimming in a spicy and coconut-creamy Thai curry sauce. I'm very excited for our the seared ahi on wonton crackers, I love ahi. At first sight the fish seems a little thin, but I' m not disappointed when I tip the first wedge into my mouth. On half the plate the sauce is a creamy wasabi, with a little spicy kick, but not so much that it overpowers the flavor of the fish. The other half is dribbled with a plum sauce that is a little too sweet for my taste.
Somewhere in our 3rd drink, during 'Tim's' story about how he formerly held a lazer tag champion title, he makes his move. I feel his hand moving from my knee and up my thigh, pushing a little too close to home, and I slide away, to 'powder my nose.' I stumble down to the lovely turn-of-the-century ladies room and look myself in the eye. Should I take the make-out invitation? The drink is definitely making me "open to suggestion." The question is, should I take the suggestion. "Aw, hell," I think. "Why not!?" And I stumble back up the stairs, slide back into the booth, press my thigh against his and fall into a bit of under-the-table drunken, public, making-out action.
The next morning I regret that third drink, but still accept a second date with 'Tim.' Maybe over coffee next time.
All Rights Reserved © 2002 Go Go Media, LLC, Denver, Colorado