We were a little disappointed when we realized Father's is a bikini bar, and while we love the Fling, those oldsters sometimes can wear you out with all their unflagging energy. But the Quill might be just the local bar we ordered.
It looks like a porny dump from the outside, but then? It's fake plants and stained glass and the best jukebox this side of someplace with a really good jukebox. Jose Feliciano? Señor, light my fire.
About 30 people were there till closing Saturday night, mingling and sort-of dancing and having dreadful discussions about sex toys. (Okay. That was Skeith, Sup and I.) And while it's not the best-looking crowd, it was remarkably puffed-lip free.
You know where to find us, if we're not at home beating the kid.