She’ll pour for you; you’ll pour your heart out to her. Confessions of a girl bartender at Lil’s joint, from GQ Alum and author of Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert.
When I was new at my bartending job, the owner of the Coyote Ugly Saloon told me, “If anyone ever comes into this place and asks for a mud slide, a zombie or a grasshopper, go ahead and make the drink. Then charge the guy fifteen bucks for it. Then take him outside and beat the shit out of him. Because this is not that kind of bar.”
Truly, the Coyote Ugly Saloon is not for everyone. If you do not like a bar where all the songs on the jukebox are either by Hank Williams or about Hank Williams, then you will not like this bar. It is loud and dark and hidden down low in the East Village of New York City.
If you had come into the Coyote Ugly Saloon when I was bartending and asked me for a martini, I would have poured you a shot of Jack Daniel’s, and I would have said, “That’s how we make martinis in this place, pal.” If you had come into the Coyote Ugly Saloon when Caroline was bartending and asked her for a rusty nail, she might have climbed on top of the bar and poured the Jack Daniel’s down your throat for you.
Now if you had come into the Coyote Ugly Saloon when Lil was bartending and asked, say, for a glass of water, you would have really been in trouble. Lil would have turned off the jukebox immediately. Lil would have climbed on top of the bar and shouted to the crowd, “Do we drink water in this goddamn bar?” And the crowd would have booed and laughed. Then Lil would have poured some Jack Daniel’s down the throats of all your friends. Then Lil would have poured some Jack Daniel’s down her own throat, and then Lil would have charged you for buying her a drink.
Liliana Lovell was my boss. She owns the Coyote Ugly Saloon.