'Happy hour' hunter knows how to scope out a night of bargain drinks and food

The term says it all -- happiness, but only for an hour. They give you something fun at a good price, then cruelly yank it away, pushing you off the bar stool and back into the cold hard world of full-price drinks and $8 appetizers.


		Joshua Trujillo / P-I
	Enjoying a prized table outside at Contour, a popular Pioneer Square nightclub, (seated together from left) Thom and Karen Heileson and Katja Kloepfer have the best of happy-hour worlds: fresh air, great people-watching as well as cheap drinks and eats (happy-hour foods are $1.95).

At least in theory.

But stick with Katja Kloepfer, and the happy hour can stretch an entire night, if you so chose. It's true. You may think you know happy hours, but you don't. Katja does.

For starters, she carries around a couple of tattered handwritten lists, which she updates as required, detailing which bars have happy hours and when. All the details are on these lists, and the 33-year-old German transplant maintains that she hardly uses the Internet to keep tabs on places. Her main sources are advertising and asking around.

"All you have to do is ask, because some places, they don't have big signs or anything," says Katja. "But if you ask, they'll tell you if they have happy hour."

Our first stop for the night was Maximilien, a French bistro in Pike Place Market -- and there's Katja, at 6 p.m., holding down a table with a view upstairs in the lounge area, waiting for her friends Thom and Karen Heileson to arrive.

While she says that happy hours aren't a big thing back home ("Germans drink beer anyway, with or without happy hour."), the Bonn native started searching out the bargain nights while living in New York a few years ago.

"It's so expensive that you've got to do something other than pay $8 for a bottle of Corona. I don't do that," she says, matter-of-factly. Behind that blond, tanned, laid-back demeanor lies a mental database of the best deals in town, for pretty much anything. Katja says she's been an exclusive thrift store shopper since she arrived in Seattle, about three years ago, and is renovating a house on Vashon Island with her boyfriend, using all refurbished, recycled materials.

"I've never had a lot of money -- maybe that has something to do with it," she says with a smile.

As much as she downplays how much of a happy-hour connoisseur she is, the real story comes out once Karen and Thom show up.

Thom, a 36-year-old graphic designer, has helped do some of the online research for the happy-hour list, "But Katja's the queen," he says. There's also talk of a character named Chad, who, at some point, maintained a happy-hour spreadsheet for the group. Think about it: Most people don't have a spreadsheet for their personal finances or business plans. This group had one going for happy hours. Now that's dedication.

"Once you get used to spending $3 for decent food ...," says Karen, her voice trailing off. "It's hard to go back to paying normal prices," adds Katja, completing the thought. It's rare that happy hours themselves are the destination for the night (although it happens from time to time). They rattle off happy-hour specials like most people can list favorite bands. And while this gang isn't above going to the occasional greasy happy hour -- as long as other factors can compensate for a less than stellar menu -- make no mistake: they are picky. For example, McCormick & Schmick's doesn't have cheap drinks, but, boy, their happy-hour menu ($1.95 a plate!) is something they mention again and again. Too bad it's too crowded most nights. And Katja points out that places with big beer-logo banners advertising happy hours generally aren't the best ones to hit, because she says that, rather than promoting a bar or restaurant's food and drinks, it's just a promotional opportunity for a beer company.


		Joshua Trujillo / P-I
	Kloepfer's well-used happy-hour lists act as her guide to the best happy-hour deals in town.

The happy hour is over by 7 at Maximilien, so the three friends gather themselves and move onto Contour, which while only a 10-minute walk down First Avenue, is a million miles away from the cute little bistro. Contour is a popular Pioneer Square nightclub, and has all the trappings of what goes into being just that -- the scene is pick-uppy and the bass the DJ pumps out while playing '80s hits is heavy. Some of Katja's friends don't care for the place, and as she chats on her cell phone co-ordinating meeting places and mapping out the night for those who may or may not join in, she mentions other possible spots for those with more bougie tastes.

"The burgers here are huge," she says, pointing to the rather extensive happy-hour menu moments after she ends a call. Katja, Thom and Karen are undeterred by Contour's clubby vibe because they have their eyes on the prize: A table outside, offering fresh air, great people-watching as well as cheap drinks and eats (all happy-hour foods are $1.95, the Driftwood Ale -- which Katja cautions against overimbibing -- is $2 and the well drinks are $3.50). And given that most restaurants tuck happy-hour clientele around a bar or heap them onto the least desirable tables rather than offering them views or the opportunity to dine al fresco, the deal seems hard to beat. For a while, it seems as if we may not make the 8 p.m. cutoff, and Thom wanders down to conduct a reconnaissance mission at Fado, but a table finally opens and the focus shifts from table-hunting to menu inspection. Here, another pal, wine distributor John Griffin, gives into the siren song of the happy hour and joins the posse, but since they hit the tail end of happy hour, another move is planned, pronto. As soon as the last of the hummus dip and deep-fried zucchini are done and the bill is settled, the friends move north on First Avenue.

Our third stop for the night, Belltown's Ohana, has a happy hour that extends to 11:30 -- a fact, Katja says, she "remembered from somewhere."

While the DJ pumps out a mix of old and new hip-hop, the crew munches on sushi and knocks back brews. Oddly, despite having a drink or two at each stop, Katja isn't even slightly inebriated. In fact, no one is.

"Oh, I drink gallons and gallons of water," she says, which is only a slight overstatement, as anyone paying attention would notice that she orders tall glasses of water with every alcoholic drink. Thom, too, orders large glasses of water between drinks.

Then there's the food factor (mussels, fries, sorbet, chicken strips, zucchini fries, sushi ... who can keep track), which slows alcohol absorption. Although, out of a modicum of dietary caution, Katja says she tries to stop eating at 8 on most nights (she doesn't order any sushi) and chooses carefully from happy-hour menus, which, depending on where you are, can amount to so much deep-fried treachery. There's also generally a bit of a walk between stops -- they seldom drive anywhere -- so that helps temper the effects of alcohol on the gang as well.

Her boyfriend, Johann Reusch, pops into Ohana for a beer, making the possibility of the Whiskey Bar or Buenos Aires Grill, both of which are close to the couple's downtown apartment -- likely final stops for the night.

Although, no one really looks like they're ready to call it a night.

P-I reporter D. Parvaz can be reached at 206-448-8095 or dparvaz@seattlepi.com.

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