Polish Night Sucks!

Last night a few of us ventured over to Wadpoles since it’s one of the few pubs in the neighborhood that still serves booze after midnight here in New Cross. The other two places are either way overpriced (The Venue) or just suck (Goldsmiths) and the later I refuse to return to after my wallet incident there.

So, that means Lucy, Sara, Spyros and myself got treated to a firsthand witness of Wadpoles’ weekly “Polish Night”. It takes place every Saturday night and features traditional Polish folk music performed by live acts. Boy o’ boy, what an experience to say the least! Both good and bad. The good was the music, which was pretty nice I thought. As for the bad….

First of all, it was a freaking sausage-fest in there with lots of over-aged frat-boyish latent homo-displacement action going on. One dude in particular was so drunk that he was trying to “fight” everyone. It was cute to watch until he almost brought the mayhem to our table. Some guy was passed out up at the bar the entire two hours we were there; sadly, he was one of the lucky ones I would surmise later. Meanwhile, some skanky looking bloke in a green wife-beater jumped up on the table behind us and was pumping his fist to the music. Later on I realized he was the friggin owner of the bar!

Then just for a touch a surreality, there was a black-dude in attendance who was trying to dance, pissed out of his mind, to the fast paced skippy-skip Polish folk rythmn only to look like a geriatric time-displaced Morris Day with no hope of jungle-fever to save the night. We tried to make the most of the evening, but how we survived it is beyond me.

But my “favorite part” of the night was when I asked the always inept bartender** if she could break my £10 into change or two £5 but she insisted that she didn’t have any change at the bar. What kind of sense does that make!? To make it worse (although I don’t know this for fact) I also think she told the young bartender in training to not break it for me if I asked again. I don’t know why, it’s just a gut feeling. But basically that sealed the deal in ensuring I won’t waste my time & money coming back to this joke of a pub.

**this wench is always working there whenever I come into the joint and she, although mostly pleasant, isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed if you catch my drift. I know she recognizes me too so I don’t understand why she was being such a snatch about the £10.

The place is runned by Polish owners so I can understand their wanting to celebrate their customs with the community and all. I even can understand their preference to hire “from within” and hook each other up. But if this place is remotely reflective of the Polish, then I’m sorry to tell my Polish friends that they are either exceptional people or they’re being severly misrepresented.

–> Video of some dancers (1.4mb)
–> Video of the black-dude dancing (2.2mb)

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