Hopefully the Thai food will sober you up a little, because you don’t want to fuck around at the next stop — White Horse on Western Avenue. The proprietress, a gregarious but tough-as-nails Hungarian woman named “Mama,” will throw your ass out on the street if you get out of line. So behave. If you don’t piss her off, Mama usually puts out free food at the bar. If you’re lucky, she has hot dogs, but I went in there one night and she was serving slices of black forest ham on sugar cookies.
The last Metro Red Line train leaves Hollywood and Western around 12:30, so if you’re planning on taking public transportation, don’t miss it. But if eight and a half hours of drinking just isn’t enough, now is the time to bailar, amigos. Guatelinda is beckoning.
Having only scouted out the club one time at the tail end of my own pub crawl, I honestly can’t tell you what Guatelinda is like, other than harboring an abundance of pelvis shaking. I vaguely remember a spacious bathroom. Hey, if you make it this far into the crawl, you won’t remember much, either.
If you close out Guatelinda and still have more crawling in you (my hat’s off to you, sir/madam), or you just don’t feel like sitting around for a taxi, Harvard House Motel has water beds, color TVs and “adult movies.” They’re serious about the adult movies, too — they’ve got two signs bragging about it. I can’t vouch for their selection.