Lounge 217: Drunk Girl Central

— by Caroline on Crack

Ladies who Lounge
Last night I checked out Lounge 217 in Santa Monica for the very first time. Yes, even though it’s apparently been around since the ’90s (eons in club years) I’ve never been so inclined to go. I guess it was all the bad reviews about extraordinarily rude doormen and bar staff that kept me away. If I want Hollywood attitude, I’ll go to Hollywood, thank you very much.

But when I got there a little before 10, the stone-faced doorman was brusque but not rude, even though the guys we were with were clearly wearing tennis shoes — a big no-no at this club. I’ve heard stories of where the doormen insulted people’s attire for not dressing to the bar’s standards, meaning no athletic clothes, baseball caps or sneakers. I guess it helped that we were on the list for a birthday party that had an area cordoned off.

The first to arrive for the party, the doorman dropped the velvet rope away from this little lounge area near the entrance that overlooked the bar. Things didn’t start picking up until after 11 and suddenly it seemed like a bus had dropped off a load of 20-something hipsters at the door since the place turned into an instant club scene.

The dj played a good mix of hip hop from ODB to Beyonce that kept the dancefloor swarming. A stage in the corner served as a platform for girls to showcase their moves. In the back was another smaller lounge. Usually reserved as the VIP area, tonight it was open so I snuck a peek. There was another bar back there, the music wasn’t as loud and comfy couches made it an ideal scene for conversation and lounging.

Standard cocktails cost $8 (pretty good for a hot spot) and were uber strong so naturally, before we knew it, EVERYONE got really drunk. At one point I found myself waiting in the ladies’ room for 10 minutes as both stalls were taken up by drunk girls praying to the porcelain gods. Finally a bouncer had to come in and pull them out so their guy friends could take them away.

By 1:30, drunk girls were everywhere, stumbling around the club, holding onto the walls to keep the room from spinning, clinging to their guy friends as if their lives depended on it. It was more painful to watch than funny. My parting shot of Lounge 217 was when I finally made my escape out the back door to the alley. A drunk girl in her stylish club finery was slumped over the rear of a car, hair in her face, hands holding her head while her friend rubbed her back soothingly.

217 Broadway
Santa Monica, California 90401
(310) 394-6336
Cross Street: 2nd Street