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Something different in pub city!
March 11, 2004
TGIF is an eclectic fusion of pub, restaurant, art gallery and museum and is aimed at the new economy yuppies.
"Did you know that the Tom Cruise movie, "Cocktails", was shot here?" Our host Trishul said, hardly audible over the buzz of conversation in TGIFs, Covent Gardens, London. At that time the bartender juggling bottles and pouring drinks in a dazzling display of precision and timing distracted us.
And now to see such acrobatics repeated in Thank God It's Friday’s, Airport Road, was a clear sign that Bangalore is part and parcel of the global action.
TGIF started in 1965 in New York by a perfume salesman, Alan Stillman, a zesty bachelor who hit upon the idea that 'the coolest way to meet chicks in the neighborhood' was to hire them! He did just that by buying up a run down beer parlour and doing it up with scraps of garage sale items and other memorabilia. TGIF, New York, was a runaway success, ringing in more than US$ 1 million in its very first year. And today the Dallas-based (US) Carlson group that owns TGIF, runs more than 700 restaurants in 52 countries around the world and has sales close to US$ 2 billion.
Friday’s has long been known as an innovator in 'frozen' drinks. There are some 700 'frozen funs' in their bag. Stuff like Long Island Tea, 77 Sunset Strip, Electric Lemonade, Kamikaze, Mudslide and Sex on the Beach are the rage across the globe from Australia to Zimbabwe.
Mocktails or F-Flings such as Bora Bora Brew, Grapefruit Blast, Strawberry Surprise and Pineapple Sunshine are equally popular. The bartenders - all well trained - not only serve great cocktails but also entertain diners. Ours, Srinath, tossed bottles and glasses in the air and expertly caught them - piling one into the other.
"It's an art and skill," explains Anshuman Malik, General Manager, Friday's, Bangalore. “Long hours of training by international experts and practice go into making a good bartender. Our guys participate in international bartender contests!"
The other unique feature in Fridays is the waiters and waitresses, known as "dub-dubs" - which comes from "W and W" for "Waiters and Waitresses" - who wear medals and funny buttons, key chains stickers and all manners of things on their clothes - reflecting a sense of fun and their personality.
Like other "dub-dubs" at Friday's, to take our order, Dinesh got down on his knees. "This is another form of informality to make eye contact and put the customer at ease." Incidentally ‘out of work actors and actresses in New York’ who worked as dub-dubs at Friday’s originally wore the medals and buttons.
Inside Bangalore's TGIF, the décor is uniquely Friday's. A wooden floor - on three levels - with Tiffany style lamps, brass rails, stained glass, musical instruments, a spinning wheel - where every number is 'lucky', sports gear and adventure items fixed to the walls or ceiling, make it distinctly different.
A huge brown kayak hangs over the bar area - to convey "an idea of teamwork in the establishment". A wooden propeller of a WWII aircraft fixed to the bar wall – reminds one of Bangalore’s long links with the aeronautics industry.
A delightful selection of memorabilia - movie posters, sepia-tinted photographs, old store signs, brassy wind instruments, wooden crutches and other items adorn the walls.
On the evening we landed at Friday's, the place was packed. There were families, grandparents, kids all over the place, having fun. The house favorites - Chicken Fajitas and Chimi Changas, handsomely presented - were being whisked off to tables by the dub-dubs. There were many overseas visitors and people of all age groups. It was like being transported to London or NYC. But where were all the singles?
“It is not all cocktails and singles-mingle”, smiles Anshuman, “the TGIF product is for all age groups. Our goal at Friday’s is to provide quality, family-oriented fun and service."
"Friday's is one of a kind in the city", he says, "We are targeting people coming out of their shell. New economy young professionals. Single women feel safe here. The singles usually come in during the Happy Hour - straight from the office". An average meal and a drink work out to about Rs 300 per person. It's less expensive during Happy Hour - daily between 4 pm and 8.30 pm.
If you haven't already done it, go leisurely to explore TGIF's delights. It's eclectic. It's a fusion of pub, restaurant, art gallery and museum - something very different in Pub City.
All for the sake of Rita Hayworth
Feb 27,2004
What would you do if as a teenager you wanted desperately to see a movie, one that had a hot dance number, but were flat broke? Family legend has it that young Uncle Bobby always found an ingenious solution for such situations. In this case, his shy sister, Aunt Ella got unwittingly entangled in his shenanigans.
On her way to college demure Ella passed her new neighbour’s son. The boy, an overweight pimply teenager, was smiling at her in a most familiar way. Ella looked down and hurried away.
The next day, the boy got bolder. He opened his window to wave to her. Soon he was waving and blowing kisses to her when she was on the terrace studying. One day he came up to her and handed a note, panting, “I love you. I love you! I love you!”
Taken aback by this audacity, Ella couldn’t ignore him any more. She rushed home, crying. With shaking hands she read the letter. The note spoke of undying love, of nights of loneliness, and how if they didn’t meet soon he’d go mad.
So engrossed was Ella in the letter, that she didn’t notice her two elder brothers behind her. “What gives, sis?” said one. Startled, Ella blurted out, “The boy next door loves me. He wants to meet me immediately.”
“You mean the fat boy?” asked Govind. When she nodded, he assured her, “You don’t worry, sis. We’ll teach him a lesson he won’t forget. Come on, Appu. Let’s go”.
“What the heck is this?” demanded the tough brothers, proud products of Maharaja High School, Mysore waving the note. The fat boy was taken aback by this development. Turning pale and fearing for his life, he came clean. “Ella loves me,” he stammered.
Shocked, the brothers asked for proof. The boy produced three letters that had the scent of lavender talcum powder. The perfume was very familiar -- like the talc in their bathroom. Examining the letters, Govind said: “Our sister will not write such rot.” Appu asked, “Who sent these letters?”
“Ella. She sent them through your brother, Bobby.”
“Bobby?”
“Yes,” confessed the boy, desperately looking for escape. But the brothers held him. True love’s path is seldom smooth, he remembered -- a quotation in one of Ella’s letters! He decided to be brave and said, “He’s our trusted messenger. He takes my letters and brings her letters to me.”
“Why would Bobby carry letters?”
“For money,” said the boy weakly, “Every time he brings or delivers a note I give him two annas.”
Even as this discussion was hotting up, across the street, on the terrace, the evening light caught a diminutive female form. The fat boy was trembling. Perspiration broke on his forehead. He jumped to close the shutters. Appu restrained him, “Let’s see what happens next.”
From their hiding spot, the brothers saw a slim figure sashaying to face the window. A parasol and sunglasses hid the heavily made-up face. Ella’s best saree! She had it drawn over her head. A bangled arm waved. Then a series of kisses flew to the window. The brothers watched aghast at the drama unfolding before them.
“Run Ella. Run,” the fat boy screamed, “Your brothers are here.”
“Stop it, scoundrel,” said Appu and pushed the boy down. But it was Govind who saw something was amiss and said, “Let’s go to our terrace.”
With that the brothers bounded out of the room. The boy waved frantically to the damsel twirling the parasol. Oblivious to the happenings around, she was merrily gyrating to loud Hindi film music blaring from the tea-shop below, adding a bump and grind here and there for effect.
The busy street sounds in Gandhi Bazaar of the 40s drowned her lover’s warning.
The fat boy saw with horror that his tormentors had reached the terrace and were rushing towards his lady love.
The dancer, sensing danger, ran wildly all over the terrace, dodging the pursuers. At some point in the melee, the sari came loose. Before further exposure could take place, the dancer let out a banshee-like shriek and ducked into the house. But not before Appu and Govind overpowered her in a rough soccer tackle. The three-some went crashing on the landing, noisily upsetting the stored items on the landing.
Gopal and Appu were aghast at what they were tightly holding on to. It wasn’t Ella. It was a heavily made-up Bobby albeit scantily clad!
Years later when Uncle Bobby recounts this story he has a twinkle in his eyes. “I did it - damn it - for the dough I was collecting to see Rita Hayworth in ‘Salome’. If my brothers hadn’t barged in on my act, why I’d have made enough money to take everyone to the movie!”
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