"Come Fly With Me".. or pick your favorite Rat Pack tune....

Maybe it was just the whacky mood I was in, but when a work errand brought me to this neighborhood, with time to spare, I of course made the decision to stop into the Riviera before heading home. My first time in this particular establishment, and I must say, first impressions were favorable.

You walk into a straight-up blast from the past. I don't recall what music was playing, because the only thing I could " hear " was Sinatra ( and not for the abbreviation, straight up " Fly me.. or NY, NY, or Summer Wind, etc. ). The classic era 50's vibe was everywhere. And that was, unfortunately, the most fun thing about this place. There was a 50s era bartender, by which I mean she was in her own era of being 50+, and two girls/dancers there, along with 1 other patron who, delightfully, was the embodiment of Ralph Kramden. He quietly drank, the girls quietly ignored him, the bartender quietly talked to the two girls at the other side of the large, square bar that occupied the majority of the internal space. There was maybe? room do "dance" inside the bar, but that wasn't happening. I was sipping my $6 bud light, and wishing I had ordered a Manhattan or a Whisky Sour just to a: ) see if the 'tender could even make that drink, and b: ) feel like I fit into the 50's. I also wished I was wearing a fedora...

One of the two dancers kept getting up from her stool, and going back to what I assume was the ladies room or dressing room, a door on the same side as the main entrance. On one of her return trips I made a huge waving motion towards her, since none of the previous times I'd tried more subtle waving had worked. She looked up and appeared to notice me for the first time, and came over to say hello.