It’s a busy night as usual at the Red Room Saloon. On any night of the week and at virtually any hour of the evening, I’ve never seen it less than packed, but tonight is special. And as I stroll over from the neighboring parking lot, it’s immediately apparent why. Beside the dumpster behind the building, a group of off-duty bartenders is gathered, flipping plastic bottles in the moonlight in preparation for the Red Room’s monthly flair competition.
Inside, it’s standing room only, and barely that. The island bar at the room’s center is surrounded by fans waiting to cheer on their favorite bartender. And the small dance floor, which is normally host to an assortment of attractive and inexplicably single young women, has been replaced by a makeshift bar counter, with the hanging disco ball removed to make room for twirling bottles and tins.
As the first contestant, Richard Gozinya, takes his place behind the bar, the DJ announces that he will have four minutes to make one serveable drink. You ask me, if a bartender takes four minutes to make my drink, he’d better justify the wait with some exceptionally dazzling moves. As the music begins, Gozinya doesn’t disappoint. He juggles booze with speed and agility that would put Cocktail’s Tom Cruise to shame. He does drop eight bottles, but when the four minutes are up, the DJ reveals why. “We’d like you to limit the use of flash photography,” he requests. (So I hope you appreciate the photo atop this column. A lot of Bacardi was spilled to bring it to you.)
Between the second and third contestants’ turns, bar owner Rick Barcode leads me to a table in the corner, where the judges are seated. I sit on the nearest available spot on the couch, and co-owner Michael Taing warns me that I’ve inadvertently placed myself in the “suicide seat.” Within seconds, the hazards are clear. You do not want a courtside seat at an event that involves wild bottles flying toward your face at speeds that ninja reflexes couldn’t counter. Leaning back, I survive unscathed, but my notepad is not so lucky, getting soaked with frequent splashes of rum.
Next up is B.A.T., a guy who moved here from North Korea just to flair. His nickname stands for Bottles and Tins, which he effortlessly bounces off parts of his body previously thought to be unbounceable, always in perfect sync with the music. In his big finish, he endeavors to juggle five bottles at once, and had he succeeded, he would have not only won the competition, but also been a shoo-in for a guest spot with a Cirque du Soleil show. Alas, the laws of physics finally catch up with him.
But physics don’t stand a chance when athletic Ukrainian competitor Vladymyr Buryando takes his place behind the counter. Repeatedly, he demonstrates a borderline impossible, inertia-defying ability to blindly flip bottles behind his back only to have them land squarely and motionless on the backs of both hands. For his finale, he masterfully juggles four bottles simultaneously without spilling a drop (and I can vouch for that because any drop would’ve landed on me). Buryando beats out his eight competitors to win the contest, $300 and a spot in the May finals.
With the competition over, it’s time for a drink. There should be nine strong, freshly mixed cocktails somewhere nearby. But if they’ve already been claimed, I can always just squeeze a few shots of rum from my notes.
Red Room Saloon
3101 W. Sahara Ave.
257-9663