Philthy fun

A man with a three-piece suit and graying hair stands on his chair, cups his hands around his… A man with a three-piece suit and graying hair stands on his chair, cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “This place sucks!”

Simultaneously, a young woman jumps from her booth, leaps to the bench seat, plants her high-top leather boot on the table and screams, “This place sucks!”

Atop a raised platform in the center of the commotion, Chris Cooper mediates with a microphone and a slight Canadian accent.

“I can’t hear you,” Cooper says with one hand to his ear.

“This place sucks!” another person shouts louder than the rest.

“There we go,” Cooper says, passing a gift certificate to the bold bellower.

It’s opening night at Station Square’s newest addition, Philthy McNasty’s, and in order to explain why he’s having the customers compete to degrade the restaurant, he says, “We want to show you the crazy way we do things here.”

Cooper came to Pittsburgh from Canada where he manages the Hamilton, Ontario, Philthy McNasty’s. Cooper prides himself on his ability to sling bottles behind the bar, but tonight he is the MC.

Philthy McNasty’s, a Canadian restaurant chain, landed in Pittsburgh as part of the first phase in the restaurant’s southern expansion.

Owner Michael Bahalib has tried to open the restaurant in Pittsburgh for the last three years. After months of construction and planning, the restaurant opened to a closed celebration Oct. 27.

The restaurant sells itself as a sports bar.

Red maple leaves share the walls with framed Steelers jerseys and photographs of past Pirate greats. A Canadian flag hangs from the ceiling announcing the restaurant’s heritage while a mural of Jack Lambert – teeth out – glares through his Steelers helmet. A section of one wall pays homage to Montreal native Mario Lemieux. On the restaurant’s 64 television sets, the Toronto Maple Leafs battle the Pittsburgh Penguins.

Behind the restaurant’s Pittsburgh-themed bar, Tania Williams hustles from one customer to another, straining martinis and cracking beers. Early in the night, before the crowds gather, Williams finds time to chat with her customers.

“So what do you think of the place?” Williams says, setting a vodka tonic on a maple leaf coaster.

Her customer picks up his drink and cranes his neck to look around. “Philthy McNasty’s – that’s some name,” the man says, smiling back at Williams.

Williams nods and turns toward a man waving a dollar bill.

Across the restaurant, past the DJ, up the stairs and past the pool tables, Marla Sturey weaves through the crowd.

With a tray of empty glasses balanced on her hand, Sturey finds an opening in a crowd of people watching a game of eightball and blocking her way. She sneaks through the tiny gap, pauses to let three women walk in front of her, spots some open floor space, shakes her hips to the music and disappears into the kitchen.

Sturey came to work at Philthy McNasty’s after massive layoffs cost her her maintenance job with USAirways.

“I like to entertain people,” she says. “This place fits my style.”

Sturey emerges from the kitchen carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres. She stops in front of two firefighters dressed in their blue uniforms. They are at Philthy McNasty’s as part of a fund-raiser for the Western Pennsylvania Firefighter’s Memorial Fund.

“You guys hungry?” Sturey asks, holding out her tray.

Meanwhile, two patrons monopolize the dance floor. They are the first to christen the floor. Strobe lights flash the beat while the bar’s DJ plays a John Mellencamp song.

New people stream through the front doors and crowd the dance floor. The DJ plays AC/DC, Madonna and everything in between. The space fills until the dance floor resembles one homogeneous mass swaying to the music.

Near the pool tables, a man with arms larger than most of the waitresses’ waists chalks his cue. He answers to “Chief” and he loves to make people laugh.

“Fore!” Chief yells and strokes for the break. To his surprise, the cue ball stays on the table and the other balls scatter. Chief weasels the butt end of his cue into a small crowd of people taking care not to bump a bystander on his backstroke. He takes the shot and sinks a ball. His laugh breaks through the crowd’s noise as he lines up his next shot.

Cooper, the animated MC, is now behind the bar. He is juggling bottles over his head and behind his back fast enough to make Tom Cruise blush. He fills eight rocks glasses with shots of liquor, stacks them on top of each other and tilts the entire stack into eight other glasses.

“Who wants the drinks?” he shouts. Thirty people throw up their hands.

Across the bar, past the game room, past the restrooms and around a stuffed black bear, Sturey dodges a large man in a Steelers coat and swings her tray around without spilling a drop. Two men with leather jackets walk toward the exit.

Sturey turns and smiles.

“Thanks for coming,” she says. “Hope to see you again.”