Cinebar was close to empty when I arrived with The Junta a little after 8pm, but once I donned my Power Puff Girls party hat (thanks to Rickolodeon), it was obvious there were other GQBers in the room. Within the hour, we had the historic dive bar close to its 46 person capacity and the only people in the room not there for GQB were the blue-collar NASCAR couple that attempted to play pool and our bartender. When they tried to get outside for a smoke, they had to part the Red Sea of party hats that were congregated at the bar imbibing domestic beers and Jack & Cokes.

Once someone (allegedly Krispy K, but no one is pointing fingers) broke a glass while attempting to dance, it was all downhill. There were 37 "No Dancing" signs posted everywhere, however that wasn't the only house rule broken as the allure of the disco ball was irresistible to most, if not all, of the patrons. Not even the stuffed Spuds MacKenzie that guarded the cash register could stop us once Dolly Parton tunes from the 70s started belting from the Motown heavy jukebox. The song set we programmed subsided and the barkeeper quickly pumped in ten dollars in quarters letting Tejano music fill the room. This was our cue to leave.

Two junta members scouted out nearby bars and it was determined that Katie Blooms was our next target for the evening. I had every intention of buying a megaphone, but my local Radio Shack was out of stock so I was forced to quickly spread the word that we were heading to Katie Blooms.  It wasn't long before our merry band spilled out onto San Fernando Street for a two block stroll to our next hangout for the evening.