El Recreo Room

You can go to Footsies right, because you’re sexually active, and you want to look at partners that are kind of sort of what you’re accustomed to having intercourse with. You want to listen to funky music and be surrounded by attires that took some level of sophistication and insanity to gather together. You want to be intrigued by how it all came to be, you might even want to be shocked! You want some strong and tasteful draft beers to make it all go down easy, but truly, while you’re there – a married man who’s been there before – you see absolutely nothing to stare at but the pounds upon pounds of flesh and flesh and flesh that wants nothing to do with you, nor you with it… so your friend who is sensitive and knows the sentiment, has the bright idea to walk across the street to El Recreo Room, and there, if nothing else, you don’t belong, and you don’t know shit, and so you settle into your stool and you start to talk. The beers come in bottles from the fridge, like at home, and what if those people are family?! So be it.

I don’t know how people can go out at night for some drinks and not hop around. It’s never been my thing. I go out, I try to hit as many places I can. This is how I found myself at footsies, as that place was getting too packed for my liking, I went out for a smoke and… saw this place…
Walk on in and half the place is lit with fluorescent light and the other one is dark. I see a bunch of mexican ladies just sitting around, I see an old asian guy trying to play pool with an old mexican dude, I turn to my buddy and point to the bar area where we grab some brews.
Beers come in the bottle. They’re ice cold. The music is loud. The patrons love this place. I love this place too. Like another Unilocaler said, you probably won’t like this place.

I wouldn’t come here alone, no way. Fortunately I was with a couple of cool messicans and a filipino for back up. The glare from an old man in a cowboy hat and boots, drinking a beer at the bar in the wee hours of the morning had me a little nervous, but I held my composure.
I didn’t sample their limited selection of cervezas but did get to check out their pool table. We played a couple rounds until we were tossed out with yesterday’s news.

In addition to a better selection of beer, the only thing missing from this place was for a dark Mexican man to walk through the front door… wearing a black jacket and mariachi pantalones… carrying a guitar case stocked with a deadly arsenal of handguns and grenades.
And he will be looking for a man who calls himself Bucho.

Hey… where that music coming from ?
Frankie: «I think it’s coming from over there !»
Guapo: «No way… from over there…»
(points towards donut shop)
Cheeks: «Frankie…I think you’re right… let’s check it out…»
So Frankie, Guapo, Eli, and Cheeks walk towards sound waves of crash cymbals, rotund oofs of a tuba, and agile melodies of an accordion.
Small little sign says… El Recreo Room… another boast «Pool» and yet another faintly smiles a «Beer». A small doorway alive with all types of indigenous sounds of a small town plaza of Northern Mexico. There is a small streak of silver florescent lining coming towards us from that same door, a guide of sorts, beckoning us for our arrival.
Home.
We walk towards the bar, where we’re immediately greeted by a wonderful, cordial host.
Cheeks: «uh…3 Buds, 1 Bud Light, please…»
Host: «15 dollars, please.»
Cheeks: «May I please have change for the pool tables?»
We walk towards the tables, find a suitable stick and start to play… but the music… our inspiration for our journey to beyond… is gone… nil. I leave Frankie with the Guapo and walk towards the keeper of these sonnets.
A buck for two songs… hmm…not necessarily a deal, but that’s what got us here. I chose the first, and immediately, I’m drenched in rich textures of trumpets, and a tortured lover’s lament. Soothing, yet sad. I quickly pick my second selection and I’m off to join my troop.
It’s funny how you have emotional triggers…
Like Frankie said…$ 3.50 Buds, 75 cent pool tables, 2 jukebox selections for a buck…
that’s it…
I leave you with this…(thanx Frankie)

Ever notice how Emeril Lagasse makes up for his deficiencies by speaking loudly at random? I don’t blame the guy, it works! Bam! This is why I am so loud in bed. The grunting, snarling and growling mask my – Bam!
El Recreo Room is much like our bipolar chef friend. This joint’s music’s so loud that I’ve concluded it’s the source of all Mexican music in LA. I put on a couple songs and was knocked back by the force of the music. I think it rendered me sterile. At least I hope that’s what that strange, rashy sensation is.
It’s not really a compliment calling a place the Emeril of bars. There’s Footsies across the street. El Recreo is to Emeril as Footsies is to Anthony Bourdain. As much as I love Bourdain, you know Emeril is physically capable of giving that lanky fucker a fat lip.
I don’t know where this metaphor is going. I failed the SATs and that’s not even possible, but I did it. I’ll just say that this bar ain’t your cup of tea and you’ll hate it. I love it.
Three quarter pool, 3.50 beer, and 2 songs for a dollar on my favorite jukebox in all the land.

Let’s just start by saying that we had a few drinks before heading in and who could blame us?
This Mexican style pool hall has always been of interest to me as it sits on a side street more or less. Its across the street (sort of) from a bar (Footsies) we head to ever once in awhile… I’m pretty sure they have seen their fair share of fights pouring in to the street…
Its a pretty open space — much bigger then you would expect. A few pool tables but on a Fri night I think your odds of playing would be pretty slim.
We make our way to the bar as two seats open. Thomas and I are greeted by some drinkers with out reached hands. You know they know that we know that we are out of our element. So here they go with the funny time. We shake hands and wouldn’t you know it these fools are trying to direct our shaking hands to their crotches. HA! Boy is that fun! Good thing these guys were hammered — didn’t take much to avoid touching their junk.
After we passed that test we were all friends. I bought the guys some beers which is either a great idea or a really really bad idea. This one worked out well — I think they felt bad for trying to pull the old «handshake my balls» trick so they try to bring a «bar» girl over to — I’m not sure really. I guess, sit with us? We thank them but pass…
So now we are all singing — well, they are singing. We finish up our beer and try to take off while they are trying to buy us another round…
The door man at Footsies laughs at us when he realizes that we came from the El Recreo Room…