Last night I went to Bongos for a friend's Birthday celebration. There were about twelve people in our party, so we had a fair variety of dishes. I ordered the cuban style skirt steak; now, I'm cuban, so I was surprised to learn that by "cuban style" they meant "feeble and frail." I imagine the biological waste materials of an appendectomy are hefty in comparison. My girlfriend had the remains of a malnourished piece of poultry on a funeral pyre of rice. Also, I noticed someone in the periphery of our table was chewing on what looked like a yellow plastic bag that had melted over a piece of meat, they called this cuban style milanese steak.
The vilification of my nationality was a little unsettling, but I'm not one to let some guy who flunked Le Cordon Bleu discourage me from enjoying the company of good friends. However, things took a turn for the worse when a bouncer who looked a bit like a black Butterbean started harassing us. You see, at midnight Bongos turns into a nightclub, and a squad of bald men who support my suspicion that "bouncer" is a physical description flood out into the restaurant in search of the underaged. So, in the middle of our meal, this man prompts us all for ID. A minor is considered anyone younger than 21 by these people. Unless one possesses female genitalia, in which case 18 is the age of minority.
I am 20 years old and a man, so the bouncer tells me that he can't give me a wrist band, but that he wasn't gonna call me out on it. Fast forward to after I pay the bill, and there's a new bouncer, this one the spitting image of Jabba the Hut, telling me that I can't stay. A little bit of backstory: it's $20 to get in to the club, but if one eats, one can stay for free. So all the people who were with us and were 21 or older were allowed to stay. I didn't think that was fair, so I tried reasoning with Jabba. He explained that 21 was the legal drinking age. I explained that I did not intend to drink, and that women of 18 were allowed to stay. He countered that men always say that but then drink. Apparently Bongos exposes underaged women to an alcohol rich environment but takes their word on it that they won't drink. In any case, I asked to speak to the manager. By the time she made it down the stairs the rest of our party had been asked to vacate their table for some reason or other. She managed to convince us that we weren't ever coming back to Bongos.
I can't comment on the quality of the music because it was too faint to hear from where they sat us. On the bright side, the waiter was very polite.