Night Watch is a regularly-occurring feature by nightlife columnist Tara Nieuwesteeg.
Last weekend, it took a minute for me to muster up the courage to enter The Warehouse Pub (1599 NW 1st Court, Boca Raton;
Sure, this was Boca, but still -- the pub was located in a dark part of town, and pick-up trucks (blaring country music) packed the parking lot. Good ol' boys stood smoking and laughing raucously out front.
I darted inside and was relieved--I discovered a narrow, well-lit room that smelled overwhelmingly like buttered popcorn. The place sported disco balls, lots of mirrors, paper Halloween decorations, and homey, wooden walls. The black-marble bar was narrow, but ran into a bigger room, with a few pool tables and several framed collages filled with drinking, smiling faces--many sporting big mustaches and outdated haircuts. The place was slammed, too--with the sort of familiar-faced, knee-slapping, hard-drinking crowd you find in the local watering holes of tiny country towns.
"We've been around for over 20 years," said Jackie, the white-haired,
tie-dye-print shirt-wearing pub owner.
"We've been around longer than any other bar around here," joked her
husband, George, "and still no one knows about us!"
"Seems an older crowd here," I observed, counting the grey heads.
"We're a mature crowd," she said. "but we're no old
Just then, a young woman in a black G-string and ruffled,
see-through top strolled by.
"Our girl of the evening," George commented casually.
"Huh?" I did a double-take. Next-to-naked chick didn't seem to quite
mesh with the low-key, country atmosphere. I watched as she leaned
against the bar and struck up a conversation with a woman sporting a
"She's in here every weekend," Jackie
explained. "She just sells raffle tickets and stuff. Sometimes she's in
Jackie told me a little bit about the bowling leagues, food,
If you like this story, consider signing up for our email newsletters.
SHOW ME HOW
You have successfully signed up for your selected newsletter(s) - please keep an eye on your mailbox, we're movin' in!
and other great things the bar offered, but I was preoccupied by the
g-string. On my way out, Jackie told me the bar's slogan: The best
-- Tara Nieuwesteeg