Every time you are at Elephant & Castle you wonder why you are at Elephant & Castle. It is consistently the poorest option. Really, this place is no place for anything.
Elephant & Castle has all of the traditional sucky-bar traits (poor service, it's nearly impossible to get a drink, loud as hell, overpriced/bad food, uncomfortable environment, etc.), but it also has the suckiest trump card of all up its sleeve.
Trivia.
Now, I used to be a big advocate for bar trivia. It used to be fun. It used to engage people (strangers even!). That is, until Elephant & Castle killed it.
Yes, bar trivia is dead. Elephant & Castle decided to make Thursday nights trivia nights, and that's when they lost the limited patronage they once had. See, trivia should probably be held on any day from Monday to Wednesday. By the time Thursday evening rolls around, haggard Financial District professionals break out of the woodwork in full force to drown their sorrows and forget about their trite careers and, well, lives. Not to play trivia.
Even after taking all of this into consideration, Elephant & Castle might have saved face had they chosen their trivia moderator wisely. But they didn't. No, instead they chose some British dude who is very much tone deaf. Conversations are frequently interrupted by a monotone, soggy drawl, which is downright blasted throughout the bar's speakers. And, yes, no one is playing.
"This musician starred in an '80s fantasy film with a teenage Jennifer Connelly. Teams, your answers please..."
(There are no teams.)
"David Bowie... The answer was David Bowie... Teams? David Bowie... David... Bowie... Two points if you had David Bowie."
(People start to ponder various ways to kill themselves.)
"This was the supercontinent that existed 250 million years ago. Yes, 250 million years ago, this supercontinent existed. Teams?"
(A craving for more alcohol consumes all patrons. They contemplate satisfying the urge elsewhere.)
"Pangaea. The correct response was Pangaea. That's P-A-N, G-A, E-A. Pangaea. Two points for Pangaea."
(People file out of the bar.)
© mundane affair
- mundane affair
- Chicago, IL, United States
- Hark, ye children. An ex-kid or former infant – a fully grown seed. White as milk and 2 percent overrated. Loves writing, loathes reading (only kidding) and doesn’t mind learning a thing or two. Prone to self-contradiction, self-defamation and self-mutilation, but not self-strangulation. Thinks a lot, or a little, depending on subject matter, and wishes he was a mixture of Lester Bangs, whoever played Amélie in "Amélie," Iceland and a werewolf. Did not know the 12 months or their order until grade 10, and still has no idea how many days are in each. Forgets names, birthdays, relatives and holidays, and was once a “C” geography student. Tired, in general, finding little or no motivation to wake up each day. Ate ice cream from cartons on a daily basis for three months straight (mostly in the evenings), and gained weight after it was all over. Is no longer fond of ice cream.
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