Context: today, in Blogging101, I have to write for my ‘dream reader’, which in my case is someone interested in a bar or restaurant review. I also have to do something I don’t usually do so I’ve decided to add a whole bunch of pictures rather than my usual single quote image. So here I go…
You enter Frankie’s through a sticker-plastered door on Hunter St. Rock bills and posters cover every inch of the entry way and there’s nearly always a queue, especially now they’re one of the few late night venues left in the city. Pizza is the first thing you smell. Sweet, tasty pizza, the perfect thing to soak up the alcohol already swilling in your belly (or the alcohol you’re surely about to drink). And damn, if Frankie’s pizza isn’t good (and yes, I have had it sober). Being an aspiring vego, the spinach and ricotta is my favourite but they don’t always do it by the slice. Still, don’t despair, they have plenty of non-vego slices that I’m assured are equally appetising. They’re cheap, quick and, if you’ve ordered a whole pizza, you just need to keep an eagle eye on the red order counter to make sure you don’t miss your number (not such an easy feat if you’re getting a wicked drunk on).
And, really, isn’t that what you came here for? No one comes to Frankie’s to fuck around. The minute you walk in, it’s on. Step through those black swinging doors into the main room and you’re instantly transported into the bowels of a seething, heaving rock and roll monster orgy. Arcade games, many, many beers and ciders on tap, frequent live bands with terrifying names, you name it, you’ve certainly found the rock and roll experience.
Weave your way to the packed bar. Score a drink. No doubt you haven’t found yourself so close to your fellow human beings in a while and what a motley bunch they are. Frankie’s lures in all types, from slightly bewildered suits (or those who have totally embraced their inner rock god) to 100% rock goths and leather-bound punks, to hipsters and everything in between. There isn’t a Frankie’s ‘type’, everyone is welcome and everyone leaves slightly worse for wear but better for it, I believe anyways.
Up until now, you’ve had an awesome night pressing bodies with some very interesting characters, playing pinball, slurping beer and soft, cheesy pizza. But there’s one more thing. Walk past the bar, past the stage, down the fire escape and you’ve found the piece de resistance; Frankie’s Fun Room. A tiny, swill room decked out a la some rough as guts bikie bar with actual bikie magazine porn on the walls. Granted, the people in here are no bikies but you do feel infinitely more hardened (not how you think!) just peeing in the toilets with the variously dressed and posed bikie ‘mamas’ looking down at you. Don’t ask me why, you just do!
Now, once upon a time, all you could get in this room was shots and tinnies of beer but it’s so much classier now. You can order normal drinks. You can forego the tinny (surely not the shot!) and have a vodka apple, like the rest of the normal peeps. It’s much more accessible with the chance that you might not end up spewing into the toilet. A definite win in my book. Frankie’s has the fun and full steam ahead vibe down pat. You’ll never go there for a quiet drink, a fancy cocktail or a leisurely chat but you will walk out with the throb of a wicked bass line in your chest, the smell of alcohol on your breath and a night you may or may not remember in your back pocket, done and dusted.