Updated: Dec 27, 2019
Prohibition only drives drunkenness behind doors and into dark places, and does not cure it or even diminish it. ~Mark Twain
We found this Dublin hidden pub on Buzzfeed and were stoked to give it a whirl. We sent the Blind Pig an email to place a reservation and their response included directions to go to a designated location and call a specific phone number. When they answer, say the following: “We are here for the old lady’s funeral” and someone will meet you. We are either going to a secret bar or to our death.
We have watched our fair share of 48 Hours and consider ourselves skilled detectives. We check the validity of the address. From our Google maps search, we are looking at a windowed storefront with no sign. Yep, we are going to die with a fancy drink in our hands. How are we supposed to find this place jetlagged?
We were in luck. Through our jetlag, we find the storefront, try to not stand out like tourists, and dial the number… cue the nervous giggles…our conversation goes something like this:
“Ummm… We’re here for the old lady’s funeral.” .. *giggles* If this is the wrong number, we are going to feel like real "numpties".
The response, “Wait there. Someone will meet you in 2 minutes.”
Now we wait and wonder who is coming to meet us? Should we look less conspicuous as we eyeball each person passing by? We wait (im)patiently in the rain.
Out of the mist, our secret agent appears and asks us to follow her. Our desire for a strong drink outweighed our inner voice telling us to turn back. We follow her, blindly.
We trudge down the sidewalk, turn left, maybe even left again, then into a store, down some stairs and through our jetlagged foggy brains, a little panic begins to set in. Don’t go down the stairs. This is where she will kill us. Our continuous prayer, “Please don’t murder us.”
Our silent guide, aka tourist killer, comes up to a bookcase at the end of the stairs, hits a button and “whoosh” the wall opens up to a pub. We smile and secretly apologize for calling her the tourist killer.
The pub is dark and cozy. It is exactly what we envisioned a speakeasy should be. We notice we are the only ones here except for the bar staff. They begin to utter Russian and our brains can’t keep up. Do we have them all at our beck and call or are we going to be a part of an international plot? This is what no sleep does to normal thought processes.
We opt to order drinks; if we are going to die, we will die with a drink in our hands. We spoke back in English, telling them flavors we like in our drinks.. BEST DRINK WE HAVE HAD.
Heading to Dublin? Try this hidden gem.
Email for reservations
They will direct you on where to go and what to say when you call.
No, they will not kidnap you and keep you in the dungeon below the stairs. We promise.
Have you tried a speakeasy? Do you have a story to tell that totally kicked ass? Please share and comment!
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