Getting Lit in an Argentinian Prison
Well, a theme bar emulating a prison but that's just a small detail.
By the time I turned fifty, I had only ever been drunk once, and this honour I bestowed upon myself on my eighteenth birthday. In true teenage fashion, I drank too much champagne chased by a few hefty glasses of punch before dancing on the tables we had set up in our family room for the occasion.
While I have been tipsy many times since that fateful day, I have never been drunk — you know the lie down and the world starts spinning, stumbling, slurring, dashing for “Big White” kinda inebriated.
The main reason for this is that I’m not a big drinker. Despite enjoying a beer while watching a football game, a glass of wine with friends over dinner, or a margarita in a bar in Mexico, I’m only a one- or two-drinks-per-week kinda gal. Sometimes, depending on my mood and social schedule, I can go weeks without a single drop.
My not drunk streak, for lack of a better phrase, came to a spectacular end in a prison-themed bar in Palermo, Buenos Aires, Argentina.
The recommendation
Shortly before I boarded the 24-hour bus from Brazil to Argentina, I sat down with a friend who had been in Buenos Aires a few months prior and picked his brain on what to see and do with my time in the city.
I remembered seeing a photo on his Instagram that had intrigued me. He had been sitting in a prison cell with his head in his hands looking absolutely defeated. Wondering what the hell was going on, I messaged him immediately only to find out that the picture was taken in a theme bar.
I knew right there and then that I had to visit it!
“What was the name of the prison bar?” I asked as we ate pastel and drank caldo de cana in a restaurant in the centre of Criciuma, South Brazil.
“The Hole,” he replied smiling, “in Palermo.”
Timing
I didn’t want to go to the bar alone as it’s far more fun with friends, plus this experience required someone else to take photos as you played up the misery of being incarcerated.
Although I headed to Buenos Aires alone, I was being joined by a Canadian friend a few weeks later so I held out for her arrival. We finally made it to the tourist attraction two nights before we were to board another overnight bus bound for Paraguay.
The Hole
Entering the bar is a feat in itself!
Firstly, we had to find the place.
If you don’t have an address and aren’t looking carefully, you’ll miss it. A big black door with “HOLE” embossed on it stands unassumingly recessed into the street front between two upmarket clothing stores.
Once we entered, as we didn’t have a reservation, we were directed to a cashier where we were instructed to pre-buy at least one drink for around CA $9 (US $7) which I viewed as a cover charge to gain access to the fun.
Next, we were herded into a small room and all doors were shut tight. There were Wanted posters and warning signs on the walls and a small TV mounted above what appeared to be the exit door.
Suddenly, the TV sprang to life and we were faced with a prison guard yelling insults and slurs for a good five minutes before a loud alarm rang and the door in front of us opened, finally allowing access to the bar.
This is where the fun began.
The mugshot wall appeared first. Being not only first in line, but also the first customers of the night, we were able to take mug shots of each other without waiting in a queue.
Next, we headed into the bar proper where we found an old rotary phone to make our one phone call, a cigarette machine to purchase our prison currency, and a replica of Al Capone’s car.
Heading through the open prison gate, we found ourselves surrounded by tables and chairs as well as a few side booths to the right located inside mock jail cells.
Being seated is not an option for those stopping by without a reservation. The only choice is to stand at the bar and drink — you can stay as long as you want but standing all night is not particularly enjoyable — thus it’s designed to get you in and out quickly.
Once there, we traded our tickets for a drink of choice: there were four options.
Most Wanted: Vodka, Cachaça, Passion Fruit Cordial, Ginger Bitters
Red Flag: Gin, Grenadine, Citrus Solution, Cucumber Juice
Al Capone: Vodka, Grapefruit Cordial, Hibiscus Syrup, Citrus Bitters
Man and Wife: Rum, Falernum, Lemon Cordial, Amazon Bitters
We both chose the Al Capone.
All drinks are served in a nifty little souvenir bottle that you can keep.
As neither of us are big drinkers, we felt that one cocktail would be sufficient to gain entry to the bar (you couldn’t enter on a beer or wine ticket) to take the photos we wanted. So, before getting stuck into our Al Capones, we wandered to the single cell on the top level to have a little photo fun.
I had heaps of fun pretending to be incarcerated, although I’m sure the real thing would have been less enjoyable.
Trouble Ensued
Having poured our very sweet, and deceptively highly alcoholic, drinks into the proffered tumblers over ice, our ears picked up English being spoken by the couple to our right. Who began the conversation, I don’t recall, but they had a deck of cards and were playing a drinking game I’d never heard of.
He was a mechanic from Pennsylvania currently vacationing in the city. She was from Venezuela but now living in Buenos Aires. They had begun their love affair after meeting at another bar and were clearly in the throes of the honeymoon phase.
After introductions were made, they invited us to play. Against my better judgment, I agreed.
The game was fun. Although I sipped slowly, I soon finished my drink, failing miserably at guessing correctly as each card was flipped. My new friends insisted on buying me another round.
At fifty years of age, I should know better!
I proceeded to get drunk.
“You need to take me home now,” I said to my friend looking her straight in the eyes.
She looked back realizing I was serious.
“We need to call an Uber and I need to get to bed.”
“Okay, let’s go,” she said.
Thank God for supportive friends who know when to call it quits as opposed to urging you to keep going.
We said our goodbyes to our new friends after following each other on the Insta and piled ourselves into a cab.
I shall spare you all the gory details, but saying that the world spun wildly on its axis as I spent some quality time on the bathroom floor would be somewhat of an understatement.
I don’t believe I will be getting lit in an Argentinian Prison, or anywhere else for that matter, anytime soon.