Cafe Citron

Glaring, lemon meringue-hued brick shop front leads to bawdy, freakish dance hall: one part Toulouse-Lautrec, one part Rio carnival; muddled bartenders with a twist of lime. Greasy walls and lollipop sweet décor warm the pencil thin space-one long bar faces a stack of hip-hugging booths for spicy dishes. Bottle service for human cartoon characters: glossy, dark-haired foreigners, good white girls who wish they weren't. Coy Samba starlets stir glowing margaritas, wanna pinch your behind.