El Paraiso

Joe Jost’s, across the street, kicked everyone out at 11. Instead of walking to Alex’s, I persuaded the birthday boy to go across the street to «the Mexican bar». I drive through five or six zip codes of Long Beach daily and pass a lot of Mexican bars, and I’ve always wondered if a gringo like me would be welcomed in. After all, the only color a business should see is green.
If I had bothered to read the reviews, I may have been discouraged. Half of them mention «stabbing», half mention «hookers», and I would have suspected El Paraiso is Spanish for «the knife-​wielding prostitute». Instead I read them while checking in, where I wrote the tip, «This place is only scary to people who get scared. Show respect to others and you“ll get it back. We’re all brothers and sisters just trying to drown out or celebrate our meaningless lives.» I was drunk when I wrote that, but I’ll stand by it.
Not too crowded at 11pm on a Friday night, a DJ blasting music in Spanish, we slid up to the comfortable bar and met Emilia, a sweet lady who offered a shot of Patron for the birthday boy. We got a few looks from the locals, so I did feel a little like an elephant at a donkey park (weird analogy, I know, but «black guy eating phở» seemed racist). Like any new dive, I just avoided looking too long at a girl so I didn’t get the ol’ «qué estás mirando?» upside down question mark from some dude.
My six vodka and cranberry drinks were bright red, usually a sign of a weak drink, but the drink was served in a tall glass instead of a lowball, so I’m assuming it had the right pour but with more juice. (I guess I could have asked for «less juice» in Spanish, but I probably would have said «games hands» instead and THAT, my friends, is what gets you stabbed.)
I ordered six grey goose and crans (I learned «OTRO!» at my first Mexican party– my friend told me «OTRO!» meant «CHEERS» so I kept trying to explain to the hostess that I didn’t want another shot as she kept pouring them because I kept shouting «OTRO!» followed by «No, no, no, I didn’t want another… oh fine».)
They were only $ 7.50 which is cheap. That leaves enough money for gauze for all the stab wounds.
So, anyway, how was the crowd? The only trouble we saw was a small fight that broke out at the end, but that could be anywhere (Emilia kicked him out). I mean ³⁶⁄₃₆ has more shady people. Met some nice, friendly, funny regulars (Ivan and Blanca). One guy stared at me. I didn’t feel like I could totally be my silly self, like handing a wrapped stick of gum to the birthday boy with my mouth. That seems like a stabworthy move.
El Paraiso. A cut above the rest. And your ribs.

I am disappointed. Not what my fellow Unilocalers promised. I came here expecting the imminent threat of violence and scantily clad wanton ladies of the night beckoning me to all the worst vices.
What I found was a very Latino bar. Actually a floor you could eat off of, a gorgeous beautiful bar with beautiful woodwork, photos of the owner’s children adorning the side of the cash register, and couples who snuggle by the bar to banda music.

I like this bar, I’ve only been 2x’s and both were kool. I had margaritas and the dj was playing good Mexican music!

This place is scary!

Tom Lehrer once said «Life is like a sewer, what you get out of it depends on what you put into it». Do you like the ominous feeling that you could be stabbed at any moment? Do you like cheap drinks? Do you like unattractive prostitutes who will probably sell you blow with your… err their job? The best interaction I had was when some guy broken down by life ambled up to the bar and asked if I’d like to buy a porn DVD for $ 5 by shoving it right in my face. But I already had that one, so I sent him in the direction of a scraggly gap-​toothed woman… Hope they hit it off.

Want to get stabbed, find a hooker AND get the best drink special in town?
Go here. Be warned that this isn’t the «omigawd, I totally love dive bars» kind of place. This is a legit «watch your back» sort of place.
But you may be saying, «Brendon D. why would I care about hookers exported from TJ to Long Beach? I’ve got plenty here in my local shitty strip mall.» Touché. But read on.
It’s all latin all the time… and that includes the hookers. They like to call them «hostesses», but it is painfully obvious that the majority of these ladies are looking to give a little rubby tuggy.
So, after the jukebox record scratched when we walked in, we bellied-​up-​to the bar. That’s when the pain started. We looked up and above the mirror there was a big cardboard flap with permanent marker written on it in shitty Spanish handwriting that translated to:
**Get the El Paraiso daily special. 1 shot of tequila and 1 Corona for a total of $ 6 **
I’d go on, but I don’t think I need to.
Don’t half step. On busy nights they apparently have armed guards… for a reason. Sweet!