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664 S. King St., 223-0123. INTERNATIONAL DISTRICT
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A lower-key cousin to Lake City's crack-a-lackin' Rose Garden, Fortune Sports Bar caters mainly to older dudes who are either down on their luck, down on their supply, or down to get down with the happy-hour bartender, a lovely young Asian woman in a short denim skirt who is flirtatious to the point where you feel as though a complimentary HJ might be in the offing. But don't let this fool you; when it comes to enforcing Fortune's "no bagpack after 8 p.m." rule, homegirl can hold the line. That rule—bagpack=backpack—is one of two designed to deter homeless freeloaders from sidling up to the bar, the other being a ban on "overnight tabs" (what is this, Cheers?) that the bar chalks up to the current "economic downfall." While some regulars flock for the chicken gizzards and fish balls, others speak in tongues, such as a guy who announced he'd had five back surgeries before announcing several other things we couldn't make heads or tails of. Upon entering this sparsely-decorated Chinatown establishment, patrons will pass two pool tables before encountering the bar, which boasts a pair of bizarre white liquor cases which look as though they've been pilfered from A Clockwork Orange's milk bar. The more drinks you order, the stiffer those drinks will get. And if you order beer, the bartender will try—repeatedly—to cajole you into ordering a shot, punctuating her pleas with a sassy "woo-hoo!" (If you decline to order actual shots of liquor, she'll fill a shot glass with peanuts.) Half of Fortune's space is devoted to a high-ceilinged club area, with a staging area for karaoke or live music (the Tittleholders—not Titleholders, Tittleholders—played last weekend) and a small, elevated VIP area consisting only of a sectional couch. While the women's bathroom is surprisingly clean, the men's latrine features spackled walls and crumbling tiles. Like the Rose Garden, Fortune is the sort of place that can be filled with customers one minute, empty for the next five, then filled back up again five minutes later. We'll venture to guess this has something to do with the deep conversations occurring on the sidewalk out front, as well as the patrons who stroll in and out of a mysterious "Employee Only" area with impunity.