I will always think of El Alamo first and foremost as a grimy, packed, frat-like sausage-fest where, in exchange for the cheap and inevitable intoxication brought on by the beloved Damas gratis (Chicks drink free) policy, ladies need to endure a constant wave of denim crotches pushing up against them, greasy Facundos and Alejandros calling out “Ajjj, te quiero!” and “Mamiii, que’ermosa” instead of having the ball-sack to come up to them and say “Oh hey, you’re attractive, want to get to know me tonight and entertain the idea of eventually sleeping with me?”… But then again the beer is free, the LCD’s playing ESPN, and later in the night, while hanging on the balcony clothesline the jacket, top, pants, bra, panties socks and hair elastic that you wore that night which are now all inundated with the stink of sweat and cigarette smoke, you always find a bunch of phone numbers, either neatly imprinted on business-cards or hastily scribbled onto a napkin, which you will never even consider calling but which are nice to have gotten anyway. This is the place Thursday-Sunday nights.

I went with a friend on a Monday afternoon at around 4 to watch the U.S. Open, while doing some homework reading (with beers, of course, which are free after 4), and was pleasantly surprised to find a dimly lit, Irish-looking sports pub on the first floor, very much resembling those at home. At one point a kidguydude walked by us and, smirking, said “Homework with beers, must be American.” We felt at home. So much so that we ended up staying until about 11:00, watching the end of the Open and part of the Pats-Phins game with a bunch of jersey-wearing American co-eds. This place is a 5 minute walk from my apartment. For better or worse, I see myself going back in the future. A lot.

The food which helped us soak up 7 hours’ worth of shitty Quilmes was surprisingly delicious:

El Alamo Fries: A hearty and delicious American bar-food fave, fries with a bunch of stuff on it. This one had lean ground beef (the waitress asked the kitchen to drain most of the grease for us, being classy ladies and such) with a layer of spicy guacamole smeared over it, chopped tomato and onion, lettuce. The fries themselves were nice, those poking out were nice and crispy while those in the middle soaked up the meat juice perfectly.

The Boston Pizza: It felt good that one of the 5 pizzas on the menu, the only one without a generic name was called this. And it felt even better that it was delicious. Thick, starchy, and toasty warm crust with a layer of gooey mozzarella melted on top, bits of crispy, salty pancetta scattered about and a thick layer of smokey and sweet barbeque mixed in with chunky, very flavorful tomato sauce slathered all over. A bit of dry herb sprinkled on top.