Past Curfew: Skank or perv it up at Margarita Rocks

Street News:

Sleaze and Pacific Beach nightlife just go together, so it comes as no surprise that clubgoers should compare Margarita Rocks to the infamous Safari in Tijuana. For starters, both have platforms where drunk female dancers can exhibit their moves while the guys below try in vain to look up their skirts. Both have an atmosphere that suggests drinking is mandatory, and although no one at Margarita will blow a whistle and throw tequila down your throat, you will be similarly subdued by the literally intoxicating charms of the giant-breasted Corona girl perched near the entrance.The patrons’ transparency is refreshing when it is not revolting. One cute blonde visiting from the South chatted up my friend for a cigarette and promptly ditched him afterward, proving once and for all that Southern California superficiality is far more potent than Southern hospitality. I won a Margarita Rocks “raffle” for a free buffet and party for my friends at their venue. Then I found there were so many strings attached, it was basically a scam to force me to take my friends there for drinks when they’d be perfectly content to stay at home, have some Natty Ice, clip their toenails and watch a “Project Runway” marathon. Girls, guys, management – everyone’s out for all that they can get. Yet, there’s one quality I admire about the kind of Pacific Beach clubgoer who will manipulate anyone and anything in their path to get sex or better yet, free beer. They are invariably friendly and really laid back. I don’t care if it’s the alcohol; I still appreciate the vibe. No one’s going to give you the cold shoulder after shaking around erratically on a table and making out with barflies all night. Dignity and fun mix like oil and water. Lose yours and give a lap dance to an obese stranger for free movie passes. You can’t regret what you don’t remember tomorrow morning.