A bunch of us had a discussion at brunch a few weeks back about how many drinks it takes for one to feel buzzed. While most agreed that two was the magic number, Arlen and I felt that five was more appropriate.
That said: you could not pay me enough to down five drinks poured at Maharaja.
Tucked away behind faded batik swaths lies one of Seattle’s most potent bars, daily pouring toxic drinks that deliciously burn going down in the most masochistic of fashions. I ordered two positively antiseptic gin and tonics and by some miracle of life was still able to form coherent sentences by the time the check came around.
Don’t misunderstand: these are not good drinks. Connoisseurs would do well walking up the Pike/Pine Corridor in favor of swankier bars with an actual palette for cocktails. But for those people who’ve had it up to here with their boss for the sixth time this week? Slap down $2 and blissfully sip away your frustrations.
Don’t come for the décor, unless you enjoy spending time at Cornish's freshmen dorm. Ignore the music, except if you’re familiar with Bollywood’s greatest hits. But these drinks? Unless you have an 8.0-on-the-Richter-scale hangover (like the APIC did … sorry about last night!), come enjoy the cheap-as-hell fuck-you-up booze that we all dreamt of in college.
On the other hand, you could listen to the advice of co-worker Sara: Maharaja generally sounds like a great idea. It rarely is.
UPDATE: Maharaja has closed its doors as of the January 2011. As a collective, Seattleites' livers are undoubtedly happy, but their wallets are weeping.