Up Where We Belong

[March 5th, 2008]

The Red Eye Lounge (208 NW Couch St., 222-2915) is prime people-watching territory. Just one log-lined flight of stairs above Barracuda, one can grab a table on the edge of the former Amazon Club’s dance floor and peer down on the

neverending parade of fat-bottomed girls and open-shirted

clubgoers delivered to Barracuda’s door by way of cabs and stretch Hummers (gonna party like it’s your birthday/ drink Bacardi like it’s your birthday). Occasionally a slicked-back wayward pussy-hunter from downstairs wanders up to slum it at the Red Eye, where he is met with sideways glances from the big, loud redhead seated at the bar and ignored briefly by the chatty, lip-pierced bartender. The Red Eye’s clientele is diverse—broke hippies and old-Portland punks mingle with backward-cap-and-tats types—but it’s a decidedly hip-hop destination, with DJs and way-underground MCs providing the regular entertainment. On a block reeking of hair and body products, the brick-lined Red Eye is reassuringly real—cheap drinks, offbeat regulars, comfortable nooks and a $3 pulled-pork sandwich at happy hour. Dancing is optional, but should one get that drunk there’s just enough room to bust a move and plenty of flashing lights overhead. You’re just less likely to get roofied here than at certain other neighborhood clubs: a plus in my book.