Boozing it up at Zombie Hut

Let me begin by saying Zombie Hut in Brooklyn’s uber-gentrified Cobble Hill nabe is by no means a dive in any way, shape, or form. It’s a kitschy hangout for white Brooklynites who have cash to burn on Polynesian-inspired drinks while luxuriating in over the top tiki bar surroundings. Know what? I fucking like it.

Whether it’s the being able to play Barrel of Monkeys with one of the Amazon bartenders or the cheaper than crack prices for booze — $5 for a booze-laden tiki cocktail or $2 for a PBR — or the generous buyback policy, Zombie Hut’s almost always a good stop. Throw in free goldfish and a killer backyard and dare I call it one of the best bars in the Borough of Kings? Yes, I do.

So it’s no wonder that Whitesnake and I went there both before and after taking in the Coen brothers’ latest piece of film genius No Country for Old Men at the Cobble Hill fiveplex on Court Street. What was and remains a wonder is how Whitesnake so antagonized the unemployed key grip casually spilling his Stella Artois — the PBR of Belgium — all over the bar to such a point that dude asked him to step outside.

Of all the bars in Brooklyn, the chilled out Zombie Hut comfortably located on hyper-literate Caucasian restaurant/bar row of Smith Street is as unlikely a spot for fisticuffs to nearly break out as is BAM. Leave it to Whitesnake I guess.

Through the haze of Wild Turkey shots and Planter’s Punch cocktails, I remember a few milestones in Whitesnake’s near-throwdown at the Zombie Hut. I remember him telling me that the dude seemed “bitter.” I remember that dude was such a downer that his girlfriend chose to sit there reading the Scrabble dictionary rather than converse with him. And then I remember this:

Bitter unemployed key grip to Whitesnake: “That’s it! You offended my girlfriend. You want to step outside and settle this?”

A bewildered Whitesnake to offended girlfriend: “Did I offend you?”

Offended girlfriend looking up from Scrabble dictionary seeming distinctly non-plussed: “No.”

Bitter unemployed key grip: “I asked to step outside. Are you going to or not?”

Whitesnake: “Ok. Let’s go.”

Bitter unemployed key grip walks out. The rest of us, Whitesnake and girlfriend of said key grip included, sit there laughing at the turn of events. Girlfriend apologizes to Whitesnake and says boyfriends “being an ass.” About seven or eight minutes pass and said key grip is still outside. He walks back in and informs the entire bar that “he’s outside.”

Amazon bartender: “We know you were outside.”

Everybody at bar starts laughing. Bitter unemployed key grip doesn’t get joke and walks up and taps Whitesnake on the back with a degree of force.

“Are you going to step outside,” he asks.

“Sure. Just wait for me,” Whitesnake replies.

Still not getting the absurdity of the situation, bitter unemployed key grip gathers up his shit and leaves. Girlfriend reluctantly puts down dictionary, apologizes again, and leaves.

The Wild Turkey flows again and we all have a laugh. Things are back to normal at Zombie Hut.

Happy Hour: Used to be a buck off for the Tiki cocktails until 7 PM but that seems to be caput.

Cuento Cuesto: About as cheap as getting loaded can be outside of buying a bottle of Everclear, mixing it with Montezuma tequila, and getting smashed at home. $2 PBRs, $5 cocktails, and a generous buyback policy. You can pay rent and have a coke and hookers night and still afford to drink at Zombie Hut.

Who Would Like It: Clearly not bitter unemployed key grips but other folks should enjoy the kitschy ambience, free goldfish — crackers not actual fish — and board games. Dudes with giantess or Wonder Woman fetishes will like the bartenders.
Huckle Factor: Just south of a swingers’ party. Whether it’s the booze, the games, the goldfish, or the gong, the fact is that folks of both genders can definitely get some pookie-pookie here if that’s what they’re after.

Split Lip Factor: Surprisingly high when bitter unemployed key grips are in the house and having trouble holding down their Stella. Other than that and you have a better chance of getting in a scrap at a Quaker prayer meeting.

If This Bar Was A Celebrity:  Sammy Hagar