If the 1999 film Office Space has taught us anything, it's that Hell hath no fury like an untreated case of “the Mondays.”
Thankfully, The Hole, with its often-copied but never-surpassed Wet 'n Wild moist-underwear contest is here to help.
Defined by ownership as “a work in progress since 1934” and located in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it spot in Point Loma (2820 Lytton St.), the ol' workhorse has earned the title of “a pretty much world-famous bar,” thanks to the blood, sweat, tears (and loads) of its patrons, who've been loyal since the days of the “secret handshake” code.
At the bottom of a concrete staircase, a lush, tropical garden (or at least Home Depot's idea of a lush, tropical garden) welcomes bargoers and gives way to a busy interior replete with vintage Navy recruitment posters, tiki heads, conquistador-style iron hats and other kitschy bric-a-brac that create a fill- ing-a-Red-Ryder-Wagon-at- Kobey's-Swap-Meet-on-a-Saturday-morning kinda feel.
As for drinks—screw tumblers; hooch here is handed out in personal pitchers, and with prices around six bucks a pop, it's clear not a lot has changed since the prohibition days.
Hungry for a game of pool? Well, you're gonna have to wait it out; oftentimes billiards cues double as pretend mic stands for impromptu “I Will Survive” lip-synch-offs.
I was still soaking in the sights when drag hostess Ophelia stormed in with the buoyancy of the Tasmanian Devil—brown fur coat and all—and shoved a shot that tasted like an Orangesicle down my gullet.
After a few, she started rubbing her chest profusely.
“My nipples are so hard,” she said, caressing her latex chest plate. “I believe it's going to rain.”
Her inner Al Roker unleashed, it was time to start the show.
“Who's horny tonight?” she asked, as the first contestant, a fresh Seattle transplant, nervously made his way to the stage. Grilling him with questions like “Describe the best orgy you've participated in?” and “What's the biggest thing you've ever had up your butthole?” it quickly became clear that a Miss America pageant this was not.
Two other participants vying for the $100 prize followed, and as the steam from the corner shower got heavier, so did the queen's probing inquiries. “What family member that you've already jerked-off to would you most like to have sex with in real life?” The whole room stopped its chatter and thought for a moment. Monday doldrums—cured.