Will you Tickle my Electric Pickle for a Wooden Nickel?

Listen up, Hipsterinoes:

I have some good news and I have some bad news.

The good: Circa 28 has reopened.

The bad: Electric Pickle (nee Circa 28) is a shadow of what Circa used to be.

Lauren, Anne and I munched at Bin No. 18... and debated: Louis or the Electric Pickle? Electric Pickle opened to the Public tonight. Apparently, the Public didn't get the Memo.

Our curiosity at the New-Cummer on the block got the best of us, so we headed back to my oooooolllllddddd stomping grounds. I'm talking oooollllddd like when Rocket Projects used to be there, and Mid-Town Miami was railroad yards, and it was 2003 and we didn't know what iPods were...but I'm digressing and showing my age. Anyhoo -

Electric Pickle: we walked up and the chick bouncer that used to work the door at Circa asked us if we were on the List (That never happened at Circa - it used be one of their slogans, I think, something like, "No Line, No List, No Cover..." Anne is well-connected so she got us put on the list at the door...) but it's not like we needed to be on a list because for 12:30 on a Friday night the place was totally pretty empty.

We got drinks, surveyed that the books are gone, there are antlers hanging on the wall, they replaced the shady black L-shaped couch that used to be on the first floor with a better one, put in some new chandeliers, and slatted and back-lit the walls. Downstairs is virtually the same, a little different... fine.

Upstairs is the same - pretty much. Great sound system. AMAZING, AMAZING, single-person bathrooms.

The crowd is...

Um...

Infinitely less cool than it used to be. Pancake make-up and pencil skirts. Wide-legged jeans.

We stayed for about fifteen minutes before making our decision that we were done.

On the way out Accenty McBouncerson asked us if we wanted to take some flyers for their upcoming events.

"Sure," said I, "I love Circa 28."

"This ISN'T CIRCA 28," ejaculated the bouncer.

"Circa 28 is DEAD," spat a tall lanky guy also working the door.

"Circa 28 lives in our hearts... it can never die..." was my response as my posse and I rolled our eyes and turned on our heels, dubious that we'd make the effort to go back to something that's a shadow of its former self....

With a vastly less cool clientele.

Maybe tomorrow will be better?

Here's to hopin'. Everyone has an off-night. It's just usually not their first back in business.