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REVIEW TAKEN FROM WUB-Zine
ESTABLISHMENT: Slick Rick’s (Bay 3, The Velvet Voyager)
WRITTEN BY USER: FeistyPhoenix47
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Ahhh yes, Slick Rick’s. Not even on your wildest Tuesday night “adventure”, while you’re “discovering yourself” would you want to end up in a place like this. Non-existent table service, horrendous menu selections, and disgusting signature drinks (what the hell is a “Crusty Trumpet”, anyways!?) all add up to be quite the disastrous evening. However, for the sake of FeistyPhoenix47’s “Quest for the Grossest Bar in the Galaxy – Episode 487”, I had no choice but to go inside and investigate further!

From the moment you walk in, your immune system feels as though it’s under siege. Let’s just say that the hygiene of both the employees AND clientele is…questionable, at best. The bartender, our boy Ricky himself I presume, is sporting a moustache that’s somehow greasier than the food he serves. Even worse, the disgusting towel slung over his shoulder looks as though it’s mopped up more messes than the bathroom janitor at Tacos ‘R Us.

Perhaps the most troublesome part of the night was when I saw him stomp on a couple of space roaches behind the bar, then scrape their remains into a bucket labeled “Slick Stew” inside the fridge. A word to the wise: the only thing “slick” about that stew is the way it’ll flow through your meat tubes and send you straight to the med bay. Just wish I’d noticed him do that BEFORE I’d ordered a jumbo-sized portion of the stuff…

Another odd thing to note in this deplorably dismal dive is the employee dress code. Every Corsair in this bar looks like the lead villain in a low-budget spy film. I guess while he was busy paying off the health inspectors, Rick happened to miss the memo that fedoras went out of style about 3 centuries ago.

Side note: I do feel obligated to add that the entertainment here IS undeniably brilliant – that Smooth Jazz fellow really puts on quite a show. It’s a shame this bar doesn’t match the energy of his performance. Doesn’t he own the place?? It’s on his ship after all!

To his credit, it seems that ol’ Slicky has managed to land a partnership with that new “Super Ultra” energy drink thing. You know the one, the toxic crap in the blue and orange can? I swear, he must’ve tried to upsell it to me at least 10 times in one night! Even saw ads for it as I rushed to the bathroom so my bowels could perform some not-so-smooth jazz of their own. (I repeat: stay away from the stew)

Menu & service aside, the entire establishment is severely suffering from a case of “you-feel-like-you’re-going-to-get-stabbed-itis”. It’s the kind of place where a stranger will walk up and you have no idea if they’re about to stick you with a knife or buy you a drink. But hey, some folks are into living on the edge like that I suppose.

OVERALL:

Two outta ten, wouldn’t come here again! Sorry, Mr. Jazz Man – your saxophone skills aren’t enough to make up for this less-than-mediocre experience. You and your Space Invader buddies can hang out here all you like, but you won’t find me in this corner of the cosmos again any time soon!

SERVICE: *
FOOD: *
ENTERTAINMENT: ****
$$$: **