10 6th Street ~ (415) 252-8043

UPDATE: Arrow closed for 6 months.  Sold and re-opened as Matador in October 2007!

One of the Barflies read something about this a couple weeks ago, and we were in the neighborhood (to see a play, not to buy crack) so we decided to check out the new place.  The landlord has painted over the arrow on the door, but the sign overhead still says “Arrow” (for now at least, there are some kind of issues with changing it going on).  The wierd cave crap is gone, and the lighting in the bathroom is better, but the rest of the bar is pretty damn dark, which is really ok, because the new Latin-esque art behind the bar way up on the wall is not much to look at.  Shari and all the old staff is gone, but the new owners — Evan and Anthony — are super cool.  They let us in even though they weren’t technically open the night we ventured in the unlocked door.  Evan even gave us our first round on the house (always a good thing!).  And they gave us the lowdown on how the Matador came to be…

Evan and Anthony used to run a bar called Gestalt at 16th and Valencia.  They bought the Arrow business from the guy who owned it (and who still owns the Beauty Bar).  Some sprinkler renovation done by the landlord during the six months the place was closed is responsible for getting rid of the cave crap, but Anthony picked the new name.  Perhaps he was influenced by his cute girlfriend, Marisol, a friendly chica who is very passionate about Latin music and we can look forward to her musical selections at Matador.  She played us some songs from her favorite band, Cafe Tacuba, and I have to say, you should check out their music. 

You’ll probably get a chance to do that at Matador’s grand opening bash on Friday 19 October 2007, starting at 9pm.  I think I’ll try and get back there myself.  I need to see if there is an ashtray in effect (although, to be fair, it will probably just be used for needles and broken glass pipes, and a thousand more cigarette butts on that stretch of sidewalk could possibly be an improvement over what one might probably find there if one dared to look).  Also, there is something indeterminate about the actual existence of a way to hightail it out the back that merits further investigation.  And I should ascertain the dog policy before changing that category. 

I tell you, my work carefully chronicling the San Francisco drinking scene is a never-ending story…

 

Valiant attempt to re-visit: 5:00pm Wednesday 21 February 2007

Prologue: Curiouser and curiouser…the phone number is listed elsewhere as 255-7920, yet no one answered either call on a recent Tuesday night. This could be the first closed Bar. Who could have ever imagined it would happen so soon? I may have to schedule the first “B” as a backup (no pun intended) (well, ok, maybe a little intended). You’d better subscribe to this blog to be sure to get the latest updates. Hell, I might even need to check back here to keep up with myself!

Afterword: I had been assured by some trustworthy Barflies that this place was cool. What this place was is closed. There isn’t even a sign. Just a door, with an arrow painted on it. A locked door. This was very annoying. Especially irritating was the fact that I had to run the gauntlet of Crackhead Alley to discover this disappointment. I will attempt to ascertain the operational status of this place before striking it from the list. But the fact that they do not answer the phone leads me to believe that the Arrow, cool as it may have been, was no match for the Crackheads.

Postcript: Our valiant attempt to re-visit Arrow was a smashing success! And I am so pleased to report that it was well worth our diligence. Arrow is the sort of place one likes more the longer one lingers, and linger longer is what Paladin and I definitely did.

I did not think at first that we would be there long at all. My first impression was that the place was extremely dark. Then, they turned out to be out of Ketel One and Grey Goose too. And Dewar’s. Stoli’s and Johnny Walker Red had to do. I checked for hooks, and tried to make sense of the strange faux cave decor. Since the scotches-on-the-rocks at Arrow are much smaller than the full-to-the-brim martinis, I had to ask Paladin to help me finish my drink so that we could get out of there, and that’s when the bartender’s boyfriend got a phone call and she had no one else to talk to, so I introduced myself and told her what we were up to.

Shari loved the idea, and introduced us to her boyfriend, Shane (after his phone call), who just so happens to the manager of the Beauty Bar where we will be going soon (he even gave us tokens for free drinks when we get there — wasn’t that nice?). Shari and Shane were so friendly, we decided to stay and chat with them, and to have more drinks as well, as the night was still young, and the martinis were huge, after all. The four of us (the only people in the Bar for the duration of the Visit, I might mention) conversed convivially about bars, cocktail lounges, dogs (Shane and Paladin actually showed each other the pictures of theirs on their cell phones), hamburgers (if I remember correctly), periodic goings on the wagon, and found out that we have a common acquaintance in drunk Paul of North Beach.

There is no lighter or supply of matches in the Arrow, which prevented Shari from lighting some incense (I think), but when I wished out loud for a flashlight to illuminate the depths of the somewhat ridiculously large purse I bought myself for my birthday, she produced one on the spot. I think that Arrow is that kind of place where cool co-incidences just happen. And I recommend making the effort to try and be around when they are open and checking it out for yourself, especially if Shari is working. I never did figure out what is up with their erratic hours (“some days we have happy hours and some days we don’t” is as specific as Shari ever was on the subject) — or multiple phone numbers that are never answered — but Arrow seems to be more than the sum of its parts, so it’s just as well that some of the details remain a bit murky. It goes with the lighting there.

Bathroom Biography:
I took a peek. One, unisex, oddly configured and even darker than the bar itself, which is probably a good thing. Bottom line: don’t borrow Shari’s flashlight and just hope for the best.

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