A baby in a bar? Father’s knows best.

This weekend, Hubby and I experienced our very first case of Baby Discrimination. We were denied – DENIED – entrance into a fine establishment here in LA called “Father’s Office”… thanks to baby LadyP’s presence. First I was hungry & pi$$ed, then I was thankful.

“Father’s Office” is a restaurant that happens to serve booze…. or, is it a bar that happens to serve killer burgers? It’s a toss-up. Is it a bar? Is it a restaurant? I am now certain that it’s a BAR.

All we wanted was one of their juicy, drippy burgers. Despite the family shopping area, outdoor seating and our look-at-us-we-are-hip-parents outfits, we strolled up to the door and our impending “2 plus a stroller, please” request was instantly met by the innocent 20-something Doorguy’s “Sorry, we are only ‘Over 21′” statement before we could even open our mouths. Aha! He thinks we’re under 21! Made my day. As I started to get my ID out, I realized that he was referencing the fact that my 7-month old baby was not of the legal drinking age. Buzzkill. “Are you serious?” I questioned. “Yeah. Sorry.” (Insert sheepish smile from Doorguy here.) “But we just want a burger!”  More shaking of head from Doorguy.

The dude & the door that slapped me back to reality.

Confused, we turned our stroller around and rolled back down the ramp, shamefully turned away in front of so many passers-by waiting to get in. I felt like I was back in college and trying to use my cousin’s ID. First I was embarrassed, then I got mad.

Just because we have a stroller – with a sleeping baby in it – doesn’t mean that we can’t have a burger! It doesn’t mean that we can’t drink a beer! It doesn’t mean that we can’t go to cool places anymore with other cool people that don’t happen to have kids! Then, I realized: If the pre-baby me was sitting at a bar and saw a couple roll in with a stroller I’d have thought “What the hell are they doing here…. get that baby out of this bar.” Snap to reality: The painful truth is that a baby doesn’t belong in a bar – even if the parents are cool and hip and want to have lunch. “Father’s Office” is a BAR that happens to serve burgers… not the other way around.

So we opted for the hot dog stand across the walkway and had us some killer dogs with the best damn sweet ‘n’ spicy Devil Sauce I’ve ever had. “Let’s Be Frank” (ironies of ironies, that was the actual name of the stand): “Father’s” knows best afterall. (Even though I’m still thinkin’ about that burger!)