Don't fight for your right to party... lobby for it

>> Hotel bars are the exciting new vista in pointless drinking

by RUPERT BOTTENBERG / photo by JASON FELKER

Other stories:

Alternative agenda


There were mornings when I swore I'd never knock back another drink.

Some of those mornings, of course, are the hangover hells I keep kidding myself I'm smart enough to deke out. It's not those I'm on about here, though. It's those mornings when, recalling the night before, all that comes to mind are the eyesores and earstrains of an ugly little watering hole packed with too many drunks with too much too say, far too loud. Shitty music cranked to a roar, attention-starved social cripples drowning even that out with their lame jokes and meaningless personal anecdotes, bar staff in full zookeeper mode. Vomit in the boys' room, horse piss on tap, complete and utter spiritual entropy masquerading as "partytime."

To hell with all that. No, listen, people--I got it all figured out now.

No more filthy Molson clocks on the wall. No more filthy video poker machines blinking and leering in the corners. No more filthy hippies busting solo "freedom dances" on an otherwise-empty dancefloor. And no more filthy newsweeklies littering the doorways!

From now on, it's hotel bars for me.

Those "something extras"

Now, a competent, perceptive drinker will immediately remark that hotel bars are overpriced. I cannot in all honesty state otherwise, as I clutch receipts for $5 drafts and $10 scotches. But allow me to catalogue a few of the benefits attached, the "something extra" for the "something extra" you're paying.

Firstly, comfortable seating. I don't mean simply chairs with all four legs firmly attached. I mean voluminous, fully-upholstered armchairs, so substantial they could almost double as a suite in their own right.

Secondly, the music, or even the remarkably satisfying lack thereof. When tunes are piped in, it is always at a gracious, unintrusive volume, and it is invariably tasteful jazz or even classical. It should also be noted that the acoustics in these establishments are, I suspect, scientifically engineered to maximize the audibility of regular, unstrained conversations.

Thirdly, the crowd, or--once again--the remarkably satisfying lack thereof. As an auxiliary of the hotel itself, the bar is not obliged to pack itself with human garbage just to pay the rent. This is not to say that hotel bars are vacant wastes over which a melancholy silence hangs, but rather comfortably quiet and spacious environments in which to enjoy a leisurely drunk. Consider their function: a downtime gathering place for an international cast of Japanese salarymen, Swedish stewardesses, Aussie gator-wrestlers, nouveau-riche Texas rednecks, Arab oil sheikhs, Austrian synth-wizards and Hollywood also-rans--absolutely none of whom will interfere with your Zen tranquil-lity (unless provoked).

Cari-brew-haha

I realize that, as residents of our fair city, my dear readers may have little familiarity with our wide assortment of world-class hotels. Permit me now to sing the praises of a certain three with which I am becoming increasingly familiar.

For proper, full-on old-school hotel bar vibe, there is the Caribou room of the Marriott at 2045 Peel. Greeted at the door by the lovely strains of Vivaldi, one immediately sees the gorgeous, well-stocked, free-floating bar at the center of the room. The mere fact that Heineken flows from the taps and not Ex or some such puts one quickly at ease. As one settles in amid the eminently tasteful pine green and deep brown colour scheme, one is instantaneously attended to by the most unctuously helpful staff. A special shout-out goes to barkeep Antoine Vacanti, who's been behind that bar for a good 35 years now. Clearly a professional of the highest order, Vacanti sees to our fellow drinkers' needs without hesitation, while at the same time speaking jovially of the Caribou's special place in Montreal's hockey history. The hotel is co-owned by notable Hab Serge Savard, and is immediately adjacent the Molson Centre, so this comes as no surprise. My only complaint is that the bar is perhaps a little crammed between gift boutiques and the restaurant.

Lotus position

Next up is a long-time favourite of mine, the Lotus lounge in the Chinatown Holiday Inn at 99 Viger W. No music plays at all here, and bully for that, because it would merely distract from the sedate murmur of the goldfish pond that separates the bar from the restaurant across the way. The de#201;#233;cor, you see, takes its cues from traditional Chinese design. A lovely walkway criss-crosses the pond, lined at water's level with delicate, twinkling imbedded Christmas lights, leading one to the quaint pagoda that is the centerpiece of the large room. Lights also refract through the leaping cascades of the little fountains in the pond, allowing it to dance so delightfully on the ceiling overhead. A motif of powder blue and bamboo further soothes the eye, to the extent that one ignores the proximity of the check-in desk--ordinarily, a hotel bar no-no.

Acqua vitae

Our final stop is the Acqua lounge of the Europa at 1240 Drummond. This sumptuous nook, heralded by a charming if somewhat devilish fountain, is thoughtfully separated from the workaday hub-bub of the reception area. The design of the space is rather chaotic--part Captain Nemo, part King of Siam. A rustic fireplace is crowned with a gold abstraction of a Cadillac radiator grill, next to faux-Thai ornamentation, decorative bookshelves and sci-fi tele-bubbles. Chaotic, yes, but not offensively so, with its colour scheme of purple, burgundy, gold and hardwood. The lovely Ve#201;#233;ronique, as bar manager, takes responsibility for the fine musical selections (my heart belongs to the woman who champions the Hammond organ). As a longtime bar trooper now happily ensconced in the hotel environment, Ve#201;#233;ronique shares our appreciation of the stress-free space, perhaps even more given that she's there full-time. I assure you, dear readers, that were I not here at the paper day to day, I would no doubt be there full-time too. *