It’s one of those places that double up as a bar and a car wash, so you’re never too sure if these are revelers or car owners instinctively craning their necks to check if Miko is properly buffing the rear door.
The place is BLACKY’Z, right smack in the middle of Lagos and Juba. If you know, you know. They should’ve had a laundry instead of a car wash. I’ve been here before, and I know this is getting old but I was too plastered. So, I decided why not give it a once over and let you know all about it.
The inside is a bit empty when we get there a few minutes shy of 6 p.m. but the traffic is denser than a politician’s speech in their hometown. Maybe that’s why. But I mentioned I love empty joints, right? There’s literally no music when I walk in, always a good sign. I choose a barrel close to the cocktail bar right within earshot of a TV sounding off generic music with visuals of weird people owning weird world records like this golden-haired damsel who hula-hoops using only her bum.
The lady behind the bar is in a blue t-shirt, her edges are laid, and she has a face that looks like she woke up from a movie set. Not the low-budget ones. Just to say she’s pretty. I go ask for an ashtray and between her voice and perfume I couldn’t tell which was sweeter. I know I’m going to order cocktails just to watch her make them and maybe that’s the whole point. Business acumen, maybe?
Now let me introduce a concept I think should be a thing. Auto-ism. This is the discrimination against clients who enter an establishment without car keys dangling or without embarking from a four-wheeler. I’ve been sitting for twenty minutes. One smile from the cocktail bartender concealing her false promise of sending a waiter to the table and the noise from behind me emanating from a rowdy group of West Africans and I knew I’d have to write this place off.
I thought the only cocktail I would get to experience was the mixture of nationalities from the west, east, and everything in between. It seemed this place wasn’t willing to give me the chance I gave it. Until, well a lady in black, looking kinda exhausted from her eyes, leaned against a pole next to me right as I was ordering an Uber. For the sake of it, I just decided to have one beer. Something for my trouble. And as Silas would put it, cold as his ex’s heart.
Turns out. She’d had a long day. It’s understandable. We all have those days that are like bad diarrhea and even a sneeze can take it all to shit. One beer turned into, well not going to say. But safe to say her shift ended and a lovely lady let me call her J took over the table and she was nothing short of amazing. She’s actually the superhero of this story because she saved the day. Plus, hands down, she had that Brooke, the one from one Tree Hill, voice and damn.
Do I have a highlight? No. But, the guys from you know where who were seated a barrel behind me tried skipping the bill and made J run all the way to the entrance to stop them. So, guys, pay your bills when you incur them.
Would I recommend the place? Maybe. Probably they should change their name. Black after all was a classmate of bad luck. They sat together in the back, made jokes, and nowadays make plans to meet which never fruition. My advice: give it time.
As I leave a cat brushes itself against me. And as if that wasn’t weird enough, it was black. Guess it was just almost bad luck.