Love it, hate it, do both, or call it “douche central” like many others do and deservedly so, the happy hour at Americano is a scene worth rolling eyes at. As the clock passes 5 pm, groups of business types (douches) and typettes (douchettes) crawl into the outdoor patio, oggling around but so hard pretending not to. Some guys look painfully boring, while others are agonizingly overdressed. Surely not all of them are equally as good at pretending that they are having a good time socializing with their co-workers whose company they had to endure for the past 8-10 dreadful hours discussing marketing plan for their new “exciting start-up” but the ones who do sit at a table and put on a show of having a good time.
The body language of the clientele is a masterpiece in making between 5:30 pm and 7:00 pm. I can’t tell if the women arrive straight from work or not. Would they really be allowed to have as much cake on and to wear a business skirt so tight that and it would easily make them win an audition at Ron Jeremy’s studio? And how did they walk here in thos high heals without breaking an ankle anyway? There are cougars and there are cougars. These appear to be cougars in denial. They look nasty, give you a nasty look, but god forbid you check them out or try treating them as anything less than “professional, independent women.”
The guys are reeking with that “I am doing well” smirk. They act super confident and animated with each other but are completely aloof to the presence of any women around. Are they really not interested in those boner teasing “independent” women? Have they simply given up and don’t want to bother? Are they lacking basic creativity to start a conversation with a woman? Or are they just playing along to the women’s tune of looking completely disinterested, and trying to outdo them at their own game?
Americano looks far more fun when you walk by it, but once you are inside – be warned: an overwhelming sense of guilt and such existential questions as “what the hell am I doing here?” and “why am I still here” are likely to creep in, and it might take an extra scotch or two to put those truisms aside, even if only for a few minutes.
I don’t think there is another place in this city that looks so much like what it isn’t – a meat market with meat that doesn’t know how to market itself. Oh, wait – I almost forgot about the overpriced, sterile looking “Chaya” with the clientele that’s equally or even more douched out. Just walk out of Americano and look to your right. The gender ratio there is usually far more favorable to men, but it hardly matters, as with that kind of desperate housewives of OC attidude, it really makes no difference.