It was late one evening, as I exited a Hailo car with four other American girls. There it was, Harcourt Street, in all its glory.
This was my first time to step foot into the infamous Dicey’s Garden. And it left quite the impression.
“That queue though….”
It takes serious dedication to even make it through the doors of this dark, dark pit of cheap alcohol. You could be waiting out there in the cold – wearing nearly nothing – for ages!
“I remember this song!”
Not sure if this is just Dicey’s, but they tend to play music that was popular in the US a decade ago. Everyone loves a little throwback, though.
“I’m just barely tipsy.”
Consider yourself warned to have a few stiff drinks before entering the place, especially as it gets later in the night. People are quiiiiiite merry.
“There’s a beer garden?!”
Overheard in Dicey’s:
“For starters, I didn’t even realise it was back there until about the third time I went, because I always got blacked in the first room before I ventured any further.”
Well said, lad.
“How the hell does this place have a food menu?”
Seems almost too good to be true.
“Do they only sell one type of shot here?”
Jaegerbombs. Alllllll jaegerbombs.
“How old is he…?”
Could be a 16… Could be 45. You may never know. Can we please get a bit of consistency here?
“Are those men trying to… clean the floors?!”
Good on them for mopping that filthy surface so very determinedly, but it seems like the most pointless task we’ve ever seen – wouldn’t you be better saving that for the end?!
“What? What? What?”
Mixing alcohol, a foreign accent and raging music does not make for a proper conversation. Asking people to repeat themselves gets old, and so does apolosing for mishearing every. Single. Word.
So you surrender and let the dance floor do the talking.
“Is that the sun coming up?”
Time is NEVER of the essence during a night out at Dicey’s. In fact, it tends to slip right away until the following day.
“Is that…. curry??”
Normally an Indian food standard – but hey, I’d eat anything at this point.
The thing about Dicey’s is, no two people’s experiences will be the same – so for any virgins out there, there’s no time like the present to pop your Dicey’s cherry.
And as for me? Well, there’s no shame in making a second (or third) appearance, either.
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