RIP Darwin's

On Saturday night the lovely and intrepid angita_w bundled us up and got us out of the house. We trekked down to Darwin's, the favorite semi-local bar, and found it a little shopworn upon arrival. There was no art on the walls, no bottles on the top shelf of the bar, only a few of the taps still working. Ah-nald "I'll be Bock" Schwarzenegger had been removed. Our favorite waitress was gone, since we arrived much later than usual. The nice woman taking our order gave us the sad news that Darwin's was closing that night, for good. It is under new ownership; the wait staff was told on Monday that Saturday would be their last day of business.

I write this as a public service announcement (i.e. "don't go to Darwin's anymore; it's closed), but also to remember all the wacky bits about that night. The light was burned out in the women's restroom and so we used the men's room for the first part of the night. Elwood has long told me that he spends happy moments reading the graffiti in the bathroom, which is a surprise because the women's was always clean and nicely painted. I expected a couple furtive lines of verse written in ballpoint pen by the john. But no! The men's room has received a full scale Sharpie assault, a la the Medici or the Green Mill. Giant cock sketches. Comments on other people's mama. A couple pithy lines of verse, suggestions of what to do with our current president, a giant "Got Shit??" query facing the toilet, and newer remarks about the death of Darwin's and slurs on the people who now own the business. There was no paper.

Our server, understandably, was not so enthusiastic about her job that evening. She forgot our order twice, pulled us the wrong beer more than once, and was likely under the influence of several chemicals. But we had to experience the place one last time; so we ordered what was still available and kibbitzed just like it was old times. (Sadly, I never got any fried brie. They had turned off the fryer by the time our girl finally put the order in. Does anyone know where to get a deep-fried wedge of brie in Chicago? Or out of Chicago? I'll travel.) There was a chocolate martini. The music was still great, according to Ang and El, who know these things. Our regular table was waiting for us when we arrived, as always. About halfway through the night, the men's room folded (with a big "NO" scrawled on butcher paper and tacked to the door) and the women's was reopened, with the help of a single tea light. There was extra paper in the women's. Go figure.

One of my best memories of Darwin's is our reception dinner afterparty, which we used to greet all the out-of-town guests. Wells (my favorite brother in law) encouraged us to stay late and prepare for the big day, the bridal party all paired off with one another, El somehow acquired a "Maudite" goblet, and we staggered home in a happy group on a warm July night. Our trip home this weekend was quicker, much less inebriated, and involved no smooching. I feel incredibly fortunate to have caught this place one last time on its way out the door. But I wish we'd been able to find and steal the Nintendo.