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Hottest Club North of Havana

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Clubs ’round here typically don’t open with much fanfare. Restaurants, sometimes. Hang-outs, uh-uh.


The Number of the Bistro

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Dallas has a city magazine, and it’s called, well, D Magazine. I’ve never studied it, but I’ve looked it over while waiting in line at Tom Thumb and, boy, what great society photos! The space between the cover...



Marquee Michelada

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In an even bigger example of my unwillingness to commit to anything, my favorite drink changes from month to month. Sometimes, I feel like beer. Other times, martinis. Even other times, Grade-A whole milk. At the moment, I̵...


Going for the Gold

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OK, I like the chutzpah in this idea, but I’m not sure what to make of it. Last week, a couple of dozen folks took part in the Second Annual 7th Street Pub Crawl. Didn’t know there was one last year, but whatever.



Not Rocking, But Rolling

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Back in the good ol’ days (read: the Clinton administration), my entourage and I always made time to swing by a joint that’s been all but wiped off the Clubland map.


Fly Me to the Moon

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Airports get a bad rap. Sure, there’s the waiting and the people and the security guards who look a little too frickin cheerful to be watching for terrorists, and the dreadful food and the waiting and the cramped quarters...



Dominos Deliver

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Don’t get me wrong: I like-a de sports bars as much as the next soccer hooligan. They just all seem kinda the same to me. The walls of tv’s, the buffalo wings, the Golden Tee video games, the talented bartenders, th...


Mooning

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There’s a running joke in Clubland that when a bar starts having bikini nights, you can bet business ain’t great.



From Ribbit to Woof

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There’s no telling precisely why Froggy’s Beach Club on White Settlement Road never took off. Owner Mark Walden’s spacious slice of seaside nightlife looked like a lot of fun. The sand volleyball court, the br...


Texas BlueBirds

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The never-ending stink over exactly what qualifies as “authentic” blues is enough to, y’know, give a body the blues.