Fall has hit Vancouver and as winter approaches the annoyance of waiting in line at a bar, pub or club becomes all the more apparent. With full makeup on and freshly styled hair, there’s nothing like waiting in line under a torrential Vancouver downpour. This time of year people tend to base location and overall evening plans on the forecast. Nonetheless, this past Saturday, I braved the rain for my first Metropole experience.
The Met, at 320 Abbott Street in Gastown, is cozy, young and current with a splash of character. After months of positive Metropole gossip amongst my single sources, I decided to bless the bar with my drunk and single presence.
Like most drunk Vancouverites who wander their way to the bar past 11pm, I arrived to a line and at that point decided marching to the front and batting my eyelashes while wearing a low cut shirt seemed typical. I stood with friends awaiting my ID check and analyzed the crowds stumbling in and out. By assumption I defined the group as young, wasted and sweaty (not all bad things.) Post coat check and cover, I made my usual pre bar washroom run. Makeup not running down my face – check, extensions not falling out of hair – check, boobs in place – check, and I was off. As I B lined it to the bar with no awareness of the friends I had arrived with, I was cut off by two young and horny lovebirds grinding way too far from the dance floor. “One Stella please,” and a wink later, I stood against the bar clutching the cold bottle of brew while facing the single scene at hand. Based on the make-outs in all directions, it seemed as if these singles were either on their game or one drink away from black out.
No longer the creeper standing alone at the bar, I was reunited with my friends and off we went to the main source of all single inappropriate activity, the dance floor. I must admit I’m a bit of a dance floor snob. I don’t want people getting in my way while they dry hump and I also want a little space when I’m about to bust a move. Moves were in fact busted, with fair space to show my talents (I kid) and enjoy the 90’s filled play list that brought me back to a time of pink neon scrunchies and boy bands.
Sweaty, steaming, packed, loud and provocative, the Met D floor had all the necessary characteristics to impress a single bar reviewer. It was probably the moment I witnessed an intense make-out on top of the shuffle board table, that I confirmed the Met was prime single in Vancouver material. With a tendency to forget minor details when under the influence of tequila, I (being the dork and social analyst I am) grabbed my notebook (which is always in my purse), and jotted down the witnessed act of drunken stupor. With my head down and my notebook open, I was approached by a stranger who most likely assumed I was crazy or extremely odd. “You look like you’re up to no good,” he stated and like any mysterious girl with a tendency to flirt, I responded with “I am.” This prompted a conversation regarding my notebook and my series with Vancity Buzz, so I, of course, asked if he was single. He was, in fact, single, out to meet women and told me he had a hard time meeting women in the city. The self-promoter that I am, I referred him to my site and to Vancity Buzz, sending him out into the single battlefield – armed and ready.
Being single is a sport in this city and sometimes you need to pick up your game. You win some, you lose some, but (as my parents used to say when I sucked at soccer) it’s all about having fun. The Met was a great time and I know by the red lipstick smeared across the faces of fellow patrons that I’m not alone in my conclusion.
Image by VancityAllie
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