My tummy hasn't rumbled
this much since the last time I had to do any kind of public speaking
to a large audience which for the life of me I have no idea when. I'd
often wonder to myself that if I ever went back to my old place of
work, if my boss would remember me. A little background here was that
I used to be a barman at one of those bars in Sydney that has stood
the test of time and won't change to suit the modern crowds. No fancy
pretentious nonsense, it is a pub of true values. Set in an old
Tooth's Brewery Hotel in Surry Hills, Hotel Hollywood or the
Hollywood Hotel is an established and great venue, pub, bar, cocktail
bar, night club, meeting spot, chill out location, anything you so
desire, it has all of it.
It had been nearly
three and a half years since I'd last walked through the door. Who
was working there that might remember me, would Doris be sitting at
her usual chair drinking wine and conversing with people at the bar,
furthermore, would Marc be there, the long running manager of the
place. I swear he must now be one of the longest single serving
managers of any Sydney pub. So many staff have come and gone under
his watch, few of those went on to open up bars of their own. The
prime example being the manager and/or owner of 'Hazy Rose', a cute
little cocktail bar situated upstairs in one of the many beautiful
little terraces in Darlinghurst. There have been many occasions that
I have been in there ending the night on one of my least, probably my
least favourite drink, Fernet Branca.
Back to Hollywood.
Continuously owned for many decades by actress, singer, show person,
Doris Goddard, Hotel Hollywood or just The Hollywood for short, even
though it only save son a syllable. It has seen so many fads come and
go. The biggest when I was working there was this Mexican style idea.
Places serving burritos and tacos and too many different Margheritas
to be bothered to list, cheap Latino beer and Tequila shots. Places
catering for the young trendy art crowd. In the time I was working
there I could see the lack of longevity in such a fad. There is only
so much cheap beer and Tequila one can drink. More still as those
places increased in popularity the trendy folk who once made them
great, or greater than they were or should have been, started to flee
and seek their pleasures elsewhere. All the while the Hollywood stood
proud, never waning to the pressure of the socialites and 'Hipsters'.
Anybody was welcome, is welcome and forever shall be welcome. We'd
often get a dinner crowd in before their food, after their food and
quite often when a particular Mexican themed establishment next door
got a bit too much, they would return to end the night in style.
There is only so much drunk children vomiting, screaming, shouting,
stumbling around and almost getting into several fights that most
people can handle. Quite often there would be broken glasses on the
street, vomit all over the pavement and passed out drunken fools in
any dark corner that wasn't or for their sake, hopefully wasn't
covered in vomit, piss or shit. Which is quite difficult in Surry
Hills as most dark crevices are festering with filth.
Even now, when said
establishment next to the Hollywood remains open, it's time has
passed. The phrase 'Bridges and Tunnels' has been used several times
by different people to explain who and what still frequent such
places all over the city. All the time, the Hollywood remains the
same. The same wooden bar, the same mirror ball, the same funky and
dreadfully cheesy carpet that has become such a focal point of the
place. It is actually know for having what must be one of the least
tasteful carpets I have ever seen but still for some reason have
found a place in my heart and time to love. Everything about the pub
remains almost exactly as it was when I left. I have a theory that
some of the houses in Pompei have changed more than the Hollywood, no
amount of lava and police and heritage type intervention can stop the
change of time. The only thing of note that has changed or what I
could see was that there were now more beer taps, always a good
thing. Also thes sinks in the gents loo had been replaced.
As soon as I neared the
pub, my heart beat raced, I thought about every possible eventuality.
Would it be open? Who would be working there? Was Marc still about?
Was Doris still around?
The moment the tips of
toes on my right foot crossed the threshold between indoors and
outdoors I heard it. “Gambino” shouted at the top of his lungs.
It was Marc behind the bar. My paranoia of not being remembered
couldn't have been further from reality. Not only had he remembered
me, he remembered my name. Maybe I was being a little bit over the
top or anxious about something like that. I mean it's not that hard
remembering a name or face or both but I though that maybe it would,
after all, three and a half years was a little while.
I was greeted with hug
and a Coopers. A very unexpected welcome. I was overjoyed, elated, it
really made my evening. In fact I spent the rest of the evening and
night there. Talking about this and that. Staff past and present, the
pub in general, future plans of the pub, Doris and her recent 82nd
birthday celebrations, her helper etc... there was so much to catch
up on. Marc was asking about myself, what I'd done after leaving,
where I worked, where I'd been, all that stuff. We filled in the
blanks on over three years of history. It isn't much, not much had
happened but it was enough to have what felt like I'd drunken the bar
dry and some. People came and went, several groups having a quiet
drink on what I think was a Monday night, or it could have been
Tuesday. One group of drunk wankers turned up and it was their
arrival which led to an early closure. There were all drunk, behaving
like little school children on their first trip away from their
parents. Even though they had been warned and reminded several times
about drinking on the street, they still saw fit to abuse it and take
their glasses out onto the pavement. The side doors were closed,
leaving only the front door as a point of entrance and exit. The
other chilled out groups soon left, leaving only the drunk mass. I
actually recognised a couple of them from way back when. Marc and I
knew how shit and annoying they were and would have been so when he
only served them a single round and refused anything else, they acted
up and quickly left. Leaving in their wake several spilled drinks,
empty and half full glass around the pub. I was glad to see the back
of them and helped, a bit, with the clean up.
We had a few more
drinks after the front door had been bolted shut, it was earlier than
normal but with such a crowd lurking about the pre midnight air,
anything could have happened. I stayed for a couple more drinks then
made my way out and to the apartment. I was plastered, I didn't
realised I'd drunken so much. I promised to return and have done a
couple of times since but Marc wasn't around on those occasions.
Hopefully I will get the chance to say goodbye once again before I
leave.
Hollywood's Facebook page
A review in Australian Time Out Magazine
No comments:
Post a Comment