Rainbo Club

This is an ode to the Rainbo Club (no, that's not a typo), a hipster-infested Wicker Park hole-in-the-wall that will forever hold a place in my judgmental heart. I've only been here a handful of occasions, but those excursions have left indelible impressions on my mind.

The Rainbo Club harkens back to its roots as a speakeasy in the 1920s, and the exterior, with its metal grating, ramshackle neon signage and complete lack of windows, fills you with a sense of foreboding. Are we seriously going in here, you ask. Fear not, the brave will be rewarded with an eclectic scene befitting the bar's reputation as a bohemian hangout.

Greek columns adorn the wall behind the horseshoe-shaped bar, and a deer head is mounted to the right. Beers are plentiful and cheap, and a pint of PBR (the hipster drink of choice) will only set you back $2. The opposite wall is usually covered with artwork from local artists, and I've seen everything from Jackson Pollock-esque splatter paintings to Chicago scenery. A couple months ago, a "Save Terri Schiavo" sign was posted, though it has since disappeared. Tucked around the corner is an old black & white photo booth, and it is widely believed that the cover of Liz Phair's first album was taken in that booth. Also, the last scene in High Fidelity (the proposal scene) was filmed at the Rainbo Club. And the music? Occasionally, you'll hear (overplayed) bands like The Shins, but more often they'll be spinning some kind of alterno-indie that you'll pretend to know.

The crowd, as you can imagine, tends to be adorned with skinny jeans, messenger bags with patches, and glasses with black, rectangular frames. Last night, after cleaning up from the cook-a-thon, we ventured out looking for entertainment, and landed at the Rainbo. The competition for tables was fierce, and we ended up sharing a booth with two random guys. One guy in particular was an unemployed sociology major from Indianapolis, wearing a houndstooth hoodie over a checkered sweater. Jay was fairly entertaining, as he bemoaned his unmarketable college degree and hinted that he'd be game if we wanted to get him a job at the Fed. He actually had a decent grasp of economics, and was speaking intelligently on incentive structure and politics. Too bad he spent most of his time in college learning Japanese (including a year abroad) and now can't find a job that would make use of this, other than waiting tables at sushi places. Oh and, he was a cyclist, which automatically awards him respect in my book.

The Rainbo Club: the only meat market in town where everyone's a vegan. Check it out, don't forget to bring your pretension.