Though rumors continue to swirl concerning a potential comeback for this one great shopping center, to date nothing much has happened. Yes, after a brief shuttering, someone did swoop in to revive the (now sadly defunct) movie theater, but that’s been about it for positive developments in this century. That this space still exists at all, however, with its sign continuing to tower above I-71 in the heart of town, is as triumphant as it is bizarre, and I think to have hung around this long can only mean one thing: the Continent will close this loop and survive to see better days, whatever those might be. Safe to say whatever form it takes will scarcely resemble those which have come before. To my mind there are three distinct eras for the Continent, each of them (sadly) a little less spectacular than the previous.
- French Market heyday: everyone raved endlessly about Easton when it dropped, that whole outdoors strolling at a shopping mall thing, despite the French Market here having preceded it by more than two decades. Growing up in the Mansfield area, we would load up a car full of people on occasion and make the hour drive down just to visit this place, because there was nothing around quite like it. My girlfriend at the time, Heather, loved the candle shop – I once took a vacation day from work and drove down to buy her this elaborate dolphin candle, for an Xmas present – and we also liked sampling the various restaurants. Though dining at many a franchise, this particular Damon’s, The Place For Ribs location always seemed the most happening and upscale one in town. A handful of us also caught Dumb And Dumber at the theater here in December of ’94. A couple decades earlier than this, I have read, Anthony Hopkins was here for the premier of a movie called A Bridge Too Far.
2. Happening Nightlife Destination: The mid to late 90s meant you were most likely showing up here no earlier than 10pm, because they still boasted a handful of extremely popular clubs. Sometimes you’d be standing in line looking around at the shops, most of them surely closed by this hour, elbowing your buddies with a “heh heh, check it out!” type maneuver as you pointed to a business you couldn’t believe was still hanging around. You knew the situation didn’t look pretty, necessarily, for these retail offerings, but figured some would continue to do okay, mainly because the masses still swarmed here by night. Crazy Louie’s, the Yucatan Liquor Stand, and the Funny Bone comedy club were mainstays of this era.
3. Low Rent Apartments And…Not Much Else! At present, and ever since about the year 2000 or so, some restaurants have enjoyed success, a couple of lesser torches keep the dance club flame alive, some office space tenants are theoretically happy with their choices, and that’s about it. Unless you count these swell apartments, of which I think I’ve actually set foot inside three. These were all coworkers of mine at Kroger, degenerate single dudes who liked to throw parties pretty much around the clock.
As far as specific memories of visiting the Continent are concerned, I remember a shopping outing on a warm, sunny October day in ’94 with Heather and her good friend Jennifer, just the three of us, the trip inspiring me to sneak back days later and pick up the dolphin candle. We had been here before then, however, and it was always basically an all-day adventure, despite the relatively small space, walking around shopping and grabbing a meal or two. Another night in December, Heather, her sister Laura, and Laura’s boyfriend and I did the whole ribs and trivia bit at the Damon’s, then took in Jim Carrey’s breakthrough bit of buffoonery, at the theater.
And that was it for a little while. Did the decline make us all stay away, or did our staying away create the decline? I suppose both sides, collectively speaking, were culpable in this downfall. In retrospect however it’s almost as though set pieces were being changed in a play, and none of us were willing to return until that process was complete. Hence our next extended run here, from ’97 to ’99, during which time we might visit these dance clubs on a weekly or even twice weekly basis…but it was pretty much the only reason you had for coming out here.
Below I will try to get a handle on the past and present for this once mighty entertainment mecca. One amusing footnote is that despite the presence of closer and much more imaginatively named roads cutting through here (Boulevard Victor Hugo, Boulevard Lafayette) everything is listed as being on the nearest major road of Busch, i.e. this is the exact opposite of how most shopping centers in Columbus are now classified. Anyway here is the current state of affairs:
6084 Busch Blvd: Address given for Continent Apartments headquarters. It’s a little confusing, though, because if you visit their website, the slightly more upscale Continent Village Apartments (6374 Busch) are depicted instead. The clusters much nearer to the market are still, to my knowledge, not quite as flashy.
6118 Busch Blvd: Jose’s Cabana, a Mexican restaurant with a snazzy light purple exterior. Out of current tenants, I believe they’ve been here the longest by a mile – I think somewhere around 15 years, but possibly more like 20. Party Clubhouse, a bar, is located here also.
In past lives, this building was an Oodles Billiards & Lounge, Patio At The Continent, Patio 6118 (probably just a rebranding), and a Manhattan Sports Bar.
6136 Busch Blvd: Spain Night Club. I’ve not had cause for venturing inside, but the exterior does look nice. They’ve been here since 2017 and may have therefore technically been the most successful operation to call this address home. Hard as this is to believe. Taqueria Don Pedro, a taco restaurant, also claims this address, and if I’m not mistaken is a satellite operation located within – available for dine-in, takeout, or delivery.
From 1997-2001 this space belonged to Crazy Louie’s, which crashed and burned in the courtyard of our favor in fairly short order. We didn’t exactly avoid the place entirely, though it soon lost most of its luster.
In between there was a Rush Creek Sports Bar (’06-’09) and a Whispers Cabaret (2010), among others.
6170 Busch Blvd: Culture, which bills itself as “a full-service, multifaceted, 3-part event venue.” This is located in the yellow building behind Jose’s Cabana, et cetera, a stone’s throw north up Lafayette. Tastebuds Catering, presumably the outside-world arm of this operation, is at 6170 also.
6172 Busch Blvd: Was most recently The Patio Lounge, but is not currently in use. This is where you start to get into some of these internal buildings which have had a slew of occupants over the years – it’s going to take a while for me to sort these out.
6200 Busch Blvd Unit B: Mommy And Me Childcare And Enrichment Center.
6230 Busch Blvd: WTMH Radio Station.
6230 Busch Blvd #102: local Libertarian Party headquarters.
6230 Busch Blvd #200: Legacy Life Center
6230 Busch Blvd #234: Show 83, home of a radio broadcast of some sorts.
6240 Busch Blvd: Eclipse Lounge at present. But it has also been O’Shecky’s Pizza & Grill/Live Bar, Rapallo’s (I think they relocated here from elsewhere on the premises), Conti’s Pub & Club, and a Houlihan’s (my good friend Jeremy Wendling waited tables here during its heyday).
6250 Busch Blvd: Buceye Dispensary & Cafe (that is not a typo, though I’m not sure about the significance of this spelling). Self-described as “legal potent products,” so yeah, I’m sure you can figure out what the deal is here. Indica Gummies, Infused Sugar, and Pre-Rolled Joints are some key items on their homepage.
6252 Busch Blvd: Is currently The King Of Clubs, a live music venue. But prior to this was also the home for something called Oasis Entertainment, Creed’s Janitorial Service, 2020 Night Club, Coliseum, Nvivo, and then – yes! – Yucatan Liquor Stand. I also see something called In Cahoots listed here in this old directory, during the same time period, although if I recall correctly this might have been some smaller section within the Yucatan.
Whatever the case, we certainly had our share of vivid nights here, far more than even Crazy Louie’s. And just like that place, I also recall my maiden voyage into these magical lands. It was September of 1997 and a bunch of us had rented a van for Maria’s birthday, beginning the evening downtown. However after a brief foray there, the next destination was decided in near unanimous fashion, this being the Yucatan Liquor Stand. I didn’t know enough to say one way or the other, but everyone else seemed to agree that this was a major spot we couldn’t miss, and its next door neighbor Crazy Louie’s existed only a slight notch below. This one probably cracks my top 3 in all-time most ignorant Columbus outings. Both my friend Maria and I inaugurated the place by peeing in some bushes before we even entered it. Then I found myself inexplicably shoved halfway across the dance floor while making out with and groping the girlfriend of another person in our party. Needless to say we were both quite wasted…and “snuck” off to a quiet corner, where she and I were busted again. After unsuccessfully attempting to vomit in an upstairs bathroom, I sat down for a quick little snooze on some steps and was bounced from the place. We haven’t been here very long at all, but I retreat to the van and pass out. Will spend the remainder of the evening there, though the bus rolls on to other destinations. But yeah, this pretty much summarizes the Yucatan Liquor Stand Experience.
My second will occur just a couple months later. Having just been over at Crazy Louie’s with a bunch of coworkers (from the Damon’s on Olentangy) and other assorted friends. Growing tired of that first club, our ragtag crew drifts around a corner, bound on foot for the Yucatan. Cracking up to consider the Damon’s franchise here, which is tottering on its last legs. Dave Weinle famously walked out midshift as a manager there, before Mark Stokes threw him a lifeline and invited him to our restaurant, the first of many defections. Most recently, a month or so ago, they brought over head cook Mike Soter, and I feel he won’t be the last.
Anyway, upon climbing the steps into the Yucatan, some sneering chick attired in beach comber clothes with her long black hair tucked up into an Oakland A’s hat – a look I almost always hate, too, on females, that hair under the hat thing – is working the door and allows most of us passage, but freezes in front of Virginia. Judging from the nasty smirk she’s wearing I wonder if this girl isn’t related to Wiseman, and I categorize her reaction as the cheap offshoot of jealousy.
“She’s drunk,” our bouncer friend declares, “I’m not letting her in!”
“What?” we curse, the night suddenly seeming doomed, somehow, irreparably damaged, a lost cause.
“What’s the problem?” a second bouncer drifts past, a weightlifter with bazooka arms, standing as tall as the ceiling.
I sniff impending disaster but John H has connections everywhere, he’s quick on his heels and in fact he’s sought out this other bouncer, an old frat buddy of his. This shining armored saint beams and winks at us, nodding his head at Virginia, telling the chick in the Oakland A’s cap to cool out and have a seat. Now that this ordeal is finished to satisfaction we have to wonder why we bothered, though, as in a far cry from my previous visit here this place is nearly deserted. Even circa 1997, you still had to pick and choose your spots at these clubs.
On a vibrant Saturday evening the surf and beach motif fits this bar like a glove, a shelter against the encroaching season of harsh Ohio winter. But on a night like this, lifeless as the county morgue, the dangling surfboards and Hawaiian employee attire ring false, tacky even, a miserable condition compounded further by the obscure dreck their DJ is spinning and the murky overhead lights shrouding most of the club in shadow. Despite the tropical theme here Crazy Louie’s is far sunnier, with its popular dance hits of today, luminous as an exploding star, and it’s easy to deduce why Yucatan is sinking deeper by the day.
“Whew, talk about a change of pace,” Damon whistles.
“I was in here once on Saturday, though,” I tell him, “and it was wall to wall, just like Crazy Louie’s is now.”
“Man, a frozen daiquiri sounds good,” he says, “you want one? I’ll buy.”
“Yeah, sure,” I reply.
Two hours have passed since my lone beer over at John’s, and I don’t see how one small daiquiri can affect my performance the least bit. An average looking barmaid, elevated to supermodel status here by the dearth of valid competition, whips out the blender, all smiles as she compiles our cocktails and tops them off with whipped cream, the kind of first rate service you can never get on campus or for that matter any bar where’s there’s an actual crowd to deal with. Drinks in hand, we stand by the dance floor railing, watching the dozen or so bodies shimmying below.
Sean’s standing along the railing about twenty feet down from us, but everyone else is trashed and tearing up the dance floor. Wiseman takes offense at my standing around and yanks me, with considerable force, until I’m out there alongside him. Lauren’s approach is much more subtle, as she waves to Damon, encouraging him to join us. But in his camouflage jacket and horn rimmed glasses he looks ill equipped for a night of shaking booty, plus he’s trashed, and so he just stands there idly watching everyone else.
“There’s two whores!” Frank announces, well stewed by alcohol himself, and shoves me into two overweight chicks dancing nearby, “come on! They’re throwing it out like it’s CHRISTMAS!”
Plowing into them all three of us nearly topple, though to their credit they look relatively unruffled by this transgression, and I manage not to spill my daiquiri all over the place. Through their half grimaces I spot a glimmer of mild entertainment, but it’s not the kind of open arm encouragement one typically looks for, so I retreat. Continuing to slurp my frozen cocktail, I lightly sway to the strains of this otherwise unlistenable techno track, watching Lauren as she tries, to no avail, yanking Damon onto the floor much as Frank had done me.
“Man, get rid of your drink!” Wiseman bellows, as though greatly outraged by my style – or lack thereof. “I’ll teach you how to pick up some women yet!”
But despite Frank’s protests my eyes are on Virginia, dancing just a few feet away, near the three carpeted steps leading up to the rest of rest of the room. Her cyclone of motion leads her into these steps, where she stumbles and falls, sprawling onto the blood red carpet almost precisely at Damon’s feet. Perfect opportunist he is, Damon doesn’t hesitate before swooping down to her rescue, hoisting her to her feet again.
Time always passes much too fast in these clubs, and the next thing any of us know the house lights are warming to life, it’s two a.m. The barmaids and bouncers shout menacing declarations meant to goad us into finding the exit, knowing full well it will take approximately twenty minutes for anyone to arrive there. As a preemptive strike they move their clocks ahead twenty minutes, thus engendering the same result of everyone out the door by the magic hour.
Forgetting this for one costly moment I meander outside, spotting Sean there shivering on the stoop, hands in pockets. Standing in just our tee shirts the autumn wind chills us down to the marrow, and after a few minutes like this we attempt to gain reentry, only to find the front doors locked and our smartass bouncer in the Oakland A’s cap on the other side, waving to us as she beams with sarcasm, finally capitalizing on her golden opportunity for retribution.
6312 Busch Blvd: Listed as Delfin Hookah & Lounge – but also listed as “temporarily” closed. This was formerly the site of Funny Bone Comedy Club, before they bolted in favor of Easton Town Center.
6360 Busch Blvd: ICGC Columbus Nourishment Center. This was once the home of Screens At The Continent – a feel-good story while it lasted.
I think that’s it for the current occupants. And yet this list is a bit more robust than the last time I checked in, which makes me semi-confident that it might survive in some fashion until the long awaited upswing. In the early 2000s, a filmmaker contacted its owners about using this place as a ghost town, and all kidding aside, it does look a little livelier than that now. But whatever the case, do yourself a favor sometime and stop in here to support the existing operations. Take a stroll down memory lane, shoot some photographs or perhaps a little movie of your own. Even for me, it’s been far too long since I have done so.
