Mofie
Red Garter Barcelona
Red Garter Barcelona
Banjo-born legend, steak-scented sports cathedral, and the spot where our crawl anthem turns into a midnight Beyoncé howl.
10:20 p.m.—Ignition Sequence
The wristbands scan, a neon-red shot materialises, and the karaoke monitor is already pleading for your song choice. One minute you’re still practising your Catalan “hola,” the next you’re shrieking Mr. Brightside with a dentist from Dublin. The whole ritual happens inside the double-arched doorway at Passeig de Colom 23, right on Port Vell’s palm-lined promenade, where Red Garter has become the official launchpad of the Barcelona Party Animals Pub Crawl. And yes, that first hit of mystery liquor is on the house—think of it as social lubricant with training wheels. Food Aesthetics Barcelona
From Banjo Bands to Mediterranean Mic-Drops
Long before Catalans discovered karaoke courage, Red Garter’s story began across the Tyrrhenian Sea. In 1962, American dreamer Jack Correa ripped the shutters off a tiny Florentine workshop, filled it with bourbon, banjo players and boisterous GIs, and accidentally invented Italy’s first American bar. Red Garter 1962The Florentine
Fast-forward 55 years: Florentine entrepreneur Riccardo Tarantoli decides the concept deserves beach weather and Barça jerseys, so he opens a sister venue in Barcelona in 2017. Same outlaw spirit, fresh postcode. The Florentine
The Space-Time Continuum (a.k.a. the Floor Plan)
Walk in at sunset and the place reads like a sports cathedral: two-storey brick shell, mezzanine balcony, and UHD screens the size of living-room walls. A low-slung stage lurks front-and-centre, waiting for acoustic sets or rowdy bachelor parties. After dark the crimson paint job glows under LED strips, turning casual drinkers into accidental rock stars. Phone signal is spotty, which is a mercy—nobody needs evidence of your falsetto attempt.
Day-Shift Sports, Night-Shift Notes
From 4 p.m. onward, every corner kick, Hail Mary and slam-dunk streams in high-def; burgers and pitcher deals keep the afternoon crowd glued to their benches. At 22:30 sharp the TVs morph into karaoke lyrics, the DJ flicks from ESPN to Don’t Stop Believin’, and the “spectator” section becomes a mosh pit of would-be mezzo-sopranos. Karaoke isn’t weekly—it’s a nightly rite, seven days a week, rain or Sant Joan fireworks. Red Garter 1962
Fuel: Burgers, Buckets & Wings Night
Red Garter’s kitchen isn’t shy. We’re talking “Texas XXL” beef towers, racks of sticky ribs that could anchor a schooner, and nacho plateaus layered like geological strata. Vegetarians survive on fajita skillets and fried-onion mountains, but carnivores reign supreme. Happy-Hour runs till 22:00; after that you’re into tower-beer territory, frozen margaritas by the litre, and the occasional rum bucket built for four reckless souls. Tuesdays mean free tacos, Mondays drop beer-pong promos, and a recent Instagram reel promises ten wings for six euros—poultry inflation be damned.
Plot Your Next Night-Magic Reading
Need to preview the rest of the mischief on our route? Check out these dispatches from the trenches before you lace up:
Surf the full stories at barcelonaanimalspubcrawl.com/blog and design your stamina plan accordingly.
Ready to carve your name into Red Garter’s guest-book of glorious regret? Snag your crawl wristband, warm up those vocal cords, and meet us at the doors by 22:20. The first shot’s waiting—and so is your inevitable encore. barcelonaanimalspubcrawl.com
Mic drop. Rib lift.