[Editor's Note: We all know local music and dive bars go hand-in-hand. So in the interest of merging the two together on Heard Mentality, we bring you our newest nightlife column Dive, Dive, My Darling. Read as our bold web editor Taylor "Hellcat" Hamby stumbles into the dive bar scene every week to find crazy stories, meet random weirdos and guzzle good booze.]
My Thursday night started beautifully, with first place in pub trivia at my favorite bar ever (which shall remain unnamed until my final column, which will happen sometime after Cyberdyne Systems goes loco). I told Turk I was going to Green Girl Saloon, and he should join me when his bartending shift was over at 9. When the owner came in to relieve Turk, the bartender told the owner he was going with me to Green Girl. And while the owner had just started, he piped up quickly with "I want to go." Great boss!
So we jumped in our favorite taxi service, Fat Taxi, along with two dudes I've never met (and have since forgotten their names). I had only been to Green Girl once, a few weeks prior, with my buddy and pub-trivia partner-in-crime Leo (team Charlie Bronson's Cock for the win!). It was a mostly uneventful sausage fest–I was the only gal not behind the bar and fully clothed for that matter. And it made sense, since the Green Girl is Westminster's legendary bikini bar; you can see the girls almost every week in our pages, courtesy of the bar's lovely ads. Nothing against Green Girl's ladies, but my favorite people-watching subject that first night was the dude in the Ed Hardy shirt who was overly stoked to hear "Thriller." Get a room, bro.
Thursday's return with my bar buddies wasn't much different–packed, but drama-free. "The first time I came here and saw a girl that wasn't working, I was thrown off," Turk said. Girls for a night out on the town simply don't go to Green Girl. The bar is akin to something you'd see on Mad Men: a place for gents to relax, watch some sports, down some drinks and stare at the scenery. But what surprised me was there were no lechers. Being the lady that I am, my favorite part of Green Girl is the décor–and not just the racks. It has a bright, vintage, English-pub feel complete with fox-hunting paintings, turn-of-the-20th-century advertisements and tin signs. But if you're a stray girl, no worries: The bartenders made me feel welcome enough, and my gentlemen company enjoyed even more hospitality.
This isn't exactly the place for beer-lovers, as there are only a couple to choose from. Instead, have the gals make you a cocktail from the fully stocked bar (especially anything that requires a martini shaker, amiright?).
With its clean, relaxed feeling, calling the saloon a dive is admittedly a bit of a stretch. Green Girl fits the description loosely, with its sketchy Westminster location, gals in lingerie, cheap drinks and cash-only policy more or less the only things dive-y about it. Yet this is what makes the Green Girl so wonderful: You'd think a bar filled with 90 percent testosterone and nice-looking boobies and buttcheeks spilling out would be asking for mayhem, but the men and gals alike are very well-behaved. It's worlds apart from a competing bikini beer bar down the street affectionately dubbed by patrons as "The Petting Zoo." More on that bar some other time. . . .
GO HERE IF: You want a clean, friendly, affordable place to ogle some fit and pretty bartenders.
BEST LINE OF THE NIGHT: "This is the place to go if you're down to bro down." –Leo