Two Main Lounge
O2’s
Two
Whatever you want to call it. This place I loved had many
names.
The 5 investors spent around $10,000 to have a company come
up with a name and image for the space. In the end, they named the bar after
the address, 2 N. Main Street. The space sits on a busy corner in Downtown and doesn’t
come to a 90 degree angle where the walls come together, but looks as though it
was shaved off. Possibly the former location of the front doors? At one point
it was the Parkland Library, but I don’t know how long ago that was. They painted
the exterior a dark brown and put a large silver zero and number two on the
corner, thus solidifying any certainty of what the place was supposed to be called.
Even our invoices all called us varying degrees of Two Main.
The inside of the space had a large rectangular bar in the
middle of the room. Kinda like theatre in the round, which made restocking on a
busy night a pain. The only opening behind the bar was at the back of the room and
in a 6000 square foot space, it meant a lot of walking. There were 5 stations
behind the bar, most of the time, we didn’t use them all until a Friday or
Saturday night, but on really busy nights, we would run 6 bartenders. Cocktail
servers varied, but usually we had 2-3 running and the small kitchen cooked
especially good food that was not typical of a bar, items like coconut shrimp
and chicken satay. We didn’t bother with pretzels, but splurged for Gardetto’s.
The back bar was beautiful, the bottles were backlit and there were 2 long rows
of 12 taps on each long side of the bar. The taps ran down to the basement into
a cooler the size of a larger studio apartment. Above the back bar there was a
chandelier made of glass and wire, very modern. The only tv in the bar was
attached to the square pillar that the bar was attached to on one side.
The entire bar was wood, but the top was a black flecked quartz
that coordinated with the black metal on the chairs circling the entire thing. Stainless
steel round tables lined the narrow West side of the room, with light pine and
stainless stools. Low tables went on the East side where you could more easily
fit a group. The front and back of the bar were always changing. A mix of high
and low tables, olive green micro-suede arm chairs and matching chaise lounge
chairs softened the industrial feel that could easily overwhelm you. Soft
purple curtains hung off the square pillars and parts of the walls to create
more softness and separation. The floor a stained concrete was fortunately easy
to clean.
On the East side, the wall cut in a bit to make a nook for
the DJ booth and dance floor. During the week, jazz was played or performed
with a steady rotation of musicians. On the weekends, which kicked off on
Thursdays, hip-hop was spun…and really spun, this was before iPods and
computers took over. The DJ’s would unload their turn tables and crates of
records. Our DJ’s would travel to Chicago and farther to find new music and for
a time, it was a time where you would become familiar with a song before the
radio had picked it up (50 Cent’s In da Club was one).
Our dress code was black and grey. I don’t remember what I
wore when I started, but I figured out pretty quickly to play with my clothes a
bit more. The girls who worked there were beautiful and for the most part, very
kind, but they all were able to allow their identity to shine through the muted
colors. And I started to buy things to wear that I never would have, had I not
developed some of their confidence to play with clothes and accessories.
I probably worked with Chris the most in the beginning. She
had a large 5 tattoo on her arm, and was prone to some significant mood swings.
We got on ok, but you knew it didn’t take much for her to switch gears quickly.
I had the most fun cocktailing in the beginning with Val. She was very lively
and I could tell a lot of people really enjoyed her and her sense of humor. Working
with Val meant the night was going to go quickly and there was going to be a
lot of singing! I also learned pretty quicky to mark my drink so I wouldn’t confuse
ours. I never really enjoyed Raspberry Stoli and drinking it by surprise was…well
a surprise. The first time, Val saw me do it and started howling with laughter
at my expression. No one really cared if you drank while you worked, as long as
you didn’t appear to be drunk at work. I honestly don’t know how may did, because
I didn’t care. We didn’t police it like that. People were trusted to be a
version of a grown up and as long as you stayed within some pretty wide
parameters, you were fine.
It was the first time I was ever given so much space in a
job to do the job. It was also the first time I ever felt accepted for being
me. I was a young, naïve, white girl working in a bar who’s clientele was primarily
black. There are few places before or after where I felt so loved and accepted.
The people I worked with were sincere and had rich
personalities. They were all well educated and had lots of different interests.
There was a warmth to being around them all that was indescribable. After work,
we would sit in the back in the dark on the couches and have a shift drink or
two. Often 2-3 of us cuddled together on each of the sofas sharing shift stories
and laughs. The large windows and semi-busy intersection made the visibility into
the bar easy, but we were good at staying tucked into the shadows and slipping
out the back when it was time to go home.
It was in the calm after close that you got to know people. You
learned what your coworkers drank, who they were after the rush when a little
tiredness set it with the alcohol. Occasionally, we might all decide to go to
get food at a 24hr diner, but more often we would get together on a Sunday for
margaritas and tacos as Dos Reales.
This was my first bar family. We celebrated milestones
together (still do), mourned loss, some lived and loved together. And we still
talk. Over 20 years ago and we still keep up with each other.
