Wahoo, Oxford   Leave a comment

A guy in a high visibility jacket came to the crowd I was in and asked, “is anyone here waiting for Route 66?” Shit, I rushed over to catch the one at quarter past it was now 5 minutes late with this guy continuing, “it has broken down and the next one will be in a half hour.” And, as a result it will be picking up two loads of passengers all the way to Swindon.

Oh, well, I figured, let’s go get a pint. The nearest place I haven’t yet tried was the gaudy little nightclub called Wahoo, open in the afternoon and at those times mostly, from what I can tell, populated by sad but vaguely creepy, middle-aged alcoholics. More than vaguely creepy, I hoped nonetheless to fit in.

The place is a cavern, painted bright blue, and made to be too loud for a chat. The multitude of giant screen tellies were tuned to a multitude of sporting events but it was sunny out and I really didn’t fancy standing around this alcopop bar with some infant that not only probably HAS a bartending certificate but will have earned it (or a gold star on it) for knowing how to make 30 types of shooters. I watched the tourists and new students wander past the Wahoo bike racks (which should have tipped me off to the regular other clientele’s age (and therefore the draw for my fellow creeps) and finished my overpriced Amstel.

 

Update 28 April 2017…the Good Times have rolled away:

Posted 2011/09/17 by Drunken Bunny in pubs

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