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 There is a patio in the back for smokers to be sardined with one another, but the smoke weighs heavy in the air of such a small space, that even for a smoker, like myself, was too much to bear.  The crowd is your usual hipsters, artists and a few crumbs of fake titty westerners that cram into a local watering hole to cool off with some watered down cocktails.  Luckily, in the midst of tramping from gallery to gallery, we happened upon Mandrake.  I felt like one of the paintings on the wall, melting from the heat.  It was a brutally hot and humid evening.  September is the kick off for all the galleries about town to show their best works. I was forced to come to this part of town for the big art night.  I always feel like the kid sitting in the corner while all the other kids play in the playground. What made me even more delighted was my check which didn't reek of extortion which seems to be the norm for the bar scene here. I enjoyed everything about this bar which has restored my faith in finding ones similar to this. It was at this point where I had a moment of nostalgia. I then made my way to the outside area in the back and enjoyed my cheap beer while conversing with the some of the patrons. After pounding two of each I made my way to the dance hall adorned with a disco ball, DJ set up and a very funny no dancing sign displayed for all to see. Once I went to the bar I saw the shot and beer special which was very delightful. Having read up on it before hand I expected to be let down yet again. Once I was done I walked down the block to this unsuspecting watering hole. It was after a yelp elite event where we canvased several art studios in the area. I had almost lost hope until I visited Mandrake. After being told time after time that I am going to a swank dive bar only to be let down was degrading. Being in LA for almost 6 months and exploring the nightlife I began to grow weary of the dive bar scene.