The happiest hour and equal opportunity hand drying

Last week Mr.Mr. and I stopped by the Oceanaire on the way home from work for a quick sampling of their happy hour menu.  We bellied up to the galvanized steel counter next to a heaping display of shellfish on ice and prepared to be fed.  Now it should be said that those of you who enjoy the feeling of raw oysters sliding around in your mouth like limp, slippery innards- will LOVE the Oceanaire's happy hour.  All six+ varieties can be purchased per piece at between $1 and $1.25 or as part of a larger sampler.  Mr.Mr. describes them as "light, cool, crisp and buttery all at the same time."  He adds "they have a whole host of subtleties most foods don't have and they give you a sort of high... an oyster high."  An oyster high?  Riiiiight.  I describe oysters as, "gag-inducing, gross and not worth the shells they live in."  

So I had a caesar salad and fries.  And a cosmopolitan.  The salad was pretty standard faire 

and strangely, served in one of those patchwork veneer bowls you see in college cafeterias the world over.  Sub par presentation for the stately Oceanaire, if you ask me.  But it was in the fries, that the meal was redeemed.  Sadly, this out of focus photo from the crackberry does no justice to the massive pile of seasoned and salted, garlicky shoestring fries that I undertook as my main course.

We managed to drop about $40.00 which is a bit steep for happy hour but our tab included the aforementioned pile o'fries, salad, cosmo, two stella artois, six oysters on the half shell and free bread.  The cosmo was actually the most expensive item of them all at a whopping $7.00.  That'll teach me to drink like a girl. Just kidding.  Well- mostly.

Where the Oceanaire really surprised me was the bathroom.  With a set of oval mirrors hanging over identical porcelain pedestal sinks, they lured me in with free mouthwash in faceted glass (glass!) bottles, moisturizer and a can of AquaNet.  Man do I love free hairspray.  (Okay that one really is a joke.)  And the subway tiled walls and solid wood stalls were rather classy.  But as I indulged in the extra space provided by the handicapped stall (complete with its own sink) , I noticed the neat stacks of hand towels displayed on a modern glass shelf were at least two and a half feet from the top of the sink.  

I don't know many wheelchair bound folks but I can tell you those chairs don't come with go-go-gadget arms, helper monkeys  or Claw(tm) devices to grab crap from up high.  What were they thinking?  Just another disappointing instance where form kicks function's butt yet again.  

Oh, and I left a couple of hand towels on the safety rail just in case.