TG.I.H.H.

You may think you know The City. You may, indeed, know which street intersections are traffic headaches and which are only minor irritations. You may pride yourself on knowing the names of the Cowboys’ offensive linemen. Perhaps you smirk when you hear a newcomer (someone who’s lived here a year less than you) ask how to get to Preston-wood.

But if you don’t know happy hour, you don’t know Dallas. If you would have The City take you to its changeable heart, go to happy hour.

What makes a good happy hour, and why does it have a siren-like appeal for so many? As Louis Armstrong said when asked to define jazz, “There’s some folks that if they don’t know, you can’t tell ’em.” Reasonable people might disagree, but when it comes to the characteristics of a good happy hour, we can probably get unanimous agreement at least on these:

(1) Robust drinks or a shocking number of ordinary drinks. Call it two-for-one, three-in-one, doubles, triples, whatever. For proper AA (attitude adjustment, of course), you need to feel that you’re getting a good deal. In fact, happy hours work -when they work -because they satisfy the oldest desire that slumbers within us: the desire to get something for nothing, or for very little.

Admit it, you devil. The happiest hours are those that leave you feeling that you have, one more time, put it over on somebody. Just a jigger of common sense would tell us that even a double shot (amounting to perhaps 40 cents worth of liquor) sold at $2 or $2.50 still leaves a fat profit margin for the proprietor, but we can’t always be sensible. If you were sensible you’d be home cleaning out closets, not searching for good happy hours.

(2) Food. This is a must -almost. A few places can get by without it, but they must offer counterbalancing pleasures to even the score. Happy Hour food doesn’t have to be a vast smorgasbord -some chips and dips, a few cheeses, some celery and cauliflower, finger sandwiches, eight or nine tacos and a pound or two of zesty ribs will do nicely. There’s room for variety, but veteran happy hour hunters have a slogan: “They gotta give you something.”

Indeed, happy hour may be the last bastion of that fine old Southern tradition of lagniappe celebrated by Mark Twain. In the Old South, it was customary for a storekeeper to toss in a little something extra when a customer picked up an order, as a gesture of good will. We all know that generous happy hours don’t exist just because the bar owners happen to love us, though it’s nice to pretend. But with umpteen thousand bars and restaurants operating in the Dallas area, you can bet that owners know the cash value of good will. The free eats are out there; seek and ye shall find. Some happy hours boast of oysters on the half shell or jumbo shrimp for 10 to 50 cents each, but keep looking. One block down you’ll probably find a place that doles them out for free.

Other reasons for food at any decent happy hour are purely practical: With something solid in the tummy, you’re more likely to stick around and buy more drinks rather than sensibly depart for dinner. Chances are good that the last food you had was a package of crackers and a cup of Vend-a-Blend at midafter-noon; and a good party, like an army, travels on its stomach. And, too, there’s the drive home. A couple of muscular margaritas, sans munchies, can go quickly to your head.

(3) Atmosphere. Happy hour experts disagree on the importance of this variable. For some (notably, those who come to eat free food and to enjoy the pleasant collision of spirits with synapses), atmosphere is a minor consideration. Those who like to feed the eye and the ear as well as the belly will seek an interesting combination of decor and entertainment to accompany the drinks. But be forewarned: Our exhaustive research turned up dismally few happy hours with live entertainment. Even lagniappe has its limits.

Finding a good happy hour is a matter of balancing the strengths and weaknesses of the candidates. One has a righteous gin and tonic but no food; another boasts an excellent taco bar but waters down its drinks. And you thought you were just going for a drink. This is work.

(4) The crowd. A good crowd can help create an inviting atmosphere, but no atmosphere can salvage a happy hour without a crowd. In fact, a happy hour without a crowd is not very happy at all. We’re not talking about mobs running amuck -and yes, a happy hour can become so popular that it chokes on its own success. Still, you need some people in there to conjure up that Thank-God-It’s-Tuesday spirit. A few of the 30-odd happy hours we checked out lacked only some warm bodies to make them superb. It’s hard to celebrate the completion of another work day when the loudest sound in the room is the squeak of the waitress’ pen as she makes out your check.

So, here are 10 good happy hours. But keep one thing in mind – the best aspect of happy hour is that it is essentially non-serious. We’re not talking about the fate of the MX missile or the hottest German mustard or the chewiest bagel. If your favorite happy hour is not noted below, no cause for alarm. Happy hour, when you come right down to it, is where you’re happy. What we have here is a wide range of happy hours, something to delight and offend almost everyone.

Baby Doe’s Matchless Mine. It’s fashionable among the chichi to scoff at theme bars and restaurants on the grounds that they are immature. These folks maintain that grownups have no business eating dinner in miniature castles or aboard rocket ships. They suspect that theme restaurants substitute style for substance, especially in the menu, in the hope that you’ll be dazzled into submission by a daring waitress in scuba gear plunging into a tank to spear your dinner.

But if you’re looking for a generous happy hour, descend into Baby Doe’s mine shaft. Banish the feeling that you’ve stumbled into a new domain at Six Flags and settle back and enjoy three-in-one drinks from 4:30 until 6:30 Monday through Friday. The Bloody Mary, well-iced and blooming with vegetables, is one of the best in the city. The drinks here belie the “Rotgut Whiskey” signs that adorn this bogus microcosm of the Old West.

As for food, Baby Doe’s furnishes mountains of you-peel-’em shrimp. Few will be mistaken for bass, but most are at least of middling size and -what the heck – you can eat as many as you want. The paper plates are small, to discourage severe pig-outs, but the shrimp supply is constantly replenished -a contrast to some happy hours, where the goodies are allowed to run out before the clock. For strict vegetarians, popcorn is available in massive quantities.

From a few tables, you have a nice view of Stemmons Freeway. Most of the tables, however, face circa 1890s photographs and some attractive, leaded stained glass. The dim lights and the sheer size of Baby Doe’s prevent the feeling of trans-table camaraderie fostered by some happy hours; this is a place for exchanging glances with your date.

The only real drawbacks of Baby Doe’s happy hour are the mandatory valet parking (after you’ve battled the winding mountain trail to get to the place, you’re probably capable of parking your car) and the policy that forbids running a cash tab. If you don’t have a credit card to surrender as hostage, you’ll need to pay drink by drink.

The Cirrus Lounge, Doubletree Inn. Happy hour at the Cirrus (5 until 7 p.m., Monday through Friday) can get a bit loud at times. But so would your living room if you offered unlimited draw beer, house wines and well drinks for $5 – that’s fv-e dollars. If you plan on having more than one mixed drink, you’d be better off getting on the happy hour special since the ordinary bar drinks start at $3. Of course, such a bargain brings out a few of those determined to make the most of it; drunken guffaws from a group of preppies may punctuate your conversation.

But that’s a small matter. The chairs are plush and comfortable, and both cold and hot hors d’oeuvres are available. On our visit, Swedish meatballs in a tangy sauce were perfect. And then there’s the spectacular view: Far above the maddening traffic, the twin rivers of light on Central Expressway and Greenville Avenue have their own beauty. Go at sunset for the maximum effect.

Since it is housed in the Doubletree Inn, the Cirrus draws a good many out-of-town visitors seeing the city with new eyes. You hear them, as they gaze out the windows in what might be awe.

“Look. That’s the Southland Life Building.”

“Can you see Texas Stadium from here?”

Nothing like a little civic pride with your cocktails.

Confetti. Even those who don’t like Confetti will have to admit that this eclectic disco is, well, different. But why the faint praise? Confetti is full of a fine madness, and it lasts from 4:30 until 9 p.m. Happy hour (two-for-one drinks) is dedicated to the proposition that if propositions are to be made, they may as well be made here.

Walk into Confetti at 8 p.m. on any night and you’ll swear you’ve just walked into a permanent New Year’s Eve party. The place defies generalization, with its two levels, two dance floors, four bars, strong drinks, free popcorn, fortune-tellers, shoeshine girls, people rolling (literally) in the aisles, John Lennon posters, bookcases, wall-sized Batman cartoons, strolling cigarette girls, bartenders in athletic garb, nostalgic photos in the rest-rooms, dancers with balloon antlers, champagne vendors, hanging bicycles and, of course, confetti. You could spend an hour just looking at the place.

The Den, Stoneleigh Hotel. Not all happy hours are squeezed into the traditional 4 until 7 or 5 until 8 time slots. The Den offers its hefty double shots from opening (11 a.m.) to closing (midnight) Monday through Friday. Lots of three-piece suits conduct after-work post-mortems here, hunched over bowls of popcorn and peanuts. But the main order of business is to have fun. The Den is small and dark, a nice place to gather your strength before joining the traffic.

TGI Friday’s, Addison. If the decor here seems awfully familiar -traffic signs, pennants, bright umbrellas and blonde wood – it’s because the Friday’s chain may be one of the most ripped-off in the world. An army of Dallas clones was spawned by this popular find-’em-and-forget-’em establishment, and the Addison location is a popular arena for that old game. Even if you’re not playing, though, Friday’s is still a pleasant place to spend an afternoon. The food is better than average, considering Friday’s reputation. If you’re buying, choose from a surprisingly varied menu set up like a dictionary; the burgers, potato skins and nachos are quite reliable. If you’re going the freebie route, Friday’s will not disappoint with its rotating feast of ribs, meatballs, cheeses, chips and dips. The drinks are fairly stout and Friday’s has a million of them, including bizarre concoctions like the Fogcutter (rum, brandy, gin, sweet and sour, orange juice, orgeat and sherry). This is a favorite hangout of some Dallas Cowboys, so you may get a chance to set Harvey Martin straight on a few of the game’s finer points. And if you’re having too much fun to leave, you can phone home your excuses from Dallas’ only three-level phone booth.

Greenville Avenue Bar and Grill. The crowd is the key to the GB & G. The drinks are hearty and cheap, with highballs starting at $1.50 and draft beer at 75 cents. You even get live entertainment during happy hour (4 until 7) on Thursday and Friday: Pee Wee Lynn, one of the area’s funkiest jazz pianists, does amazing things with the ivories. But it’s the large, friendly crowd that makes Dallas’ self-proclaimed “oldest bar and grill” worth revisiting. Everyone’s crowded together, so no intimate t?te-?-t?tes here, but don’t be surprised if you make some new friends. They may even ask to share your table. Alas, no free food here, so you’ll need to resort to GB & G’s basic burger menu. One other mark of distinction (besides age) sets this place apart from most Dallas bars, restaurants, stadiums and department stores: the GB & G doesn’t sell nachos.

Les Saisons. Tucked into a corner of Turtle Creek Village, Les Saisons offers a relatively quiet and relaxing happy hour with a definite appeal to an older, affluent crowd. Drinks are at reduced prices from 4 until 7 Monday through Friday, and the hot hors d’oeuvres are delicious, especially the saut坢ed mushrooms. The room is tastefully decorated in country French with lots of rattan, wrought iron and a sleek, curving rail that breaks up the space nicely. The view of the city is striking. Singer Deborah Davis provides sophisticated renditions of jazz and pop standards from 5:30 until 7.

94th Aero Squadron. Okay, another theme restaurant -perhaps the ultimate theme restaurant. How else do you lure people to Love Field? But use your imagination. You and your mates are downed behind the lines during World War I, see. The hun is everywhere, so you can only travel at night. From 4 until 7 Monday through Friday, you hole-up in a warm, cozy French ch?teau perched at the edge of a little-used airstrip. Monacled German officers are known to strut pompously in the main dining rooms, so your chaps make for the comfortable chairs and couches near the massive stone fireplace. It’s a nippy day, but danger seems remote as you settle in for shrimp, hot hors d’oeuvres, chips and dips. Madame will serve smashing, large cocktails (oddly, the drinks are at regular prices, but there is a war on, y’know). For the duration, you can slip on a headset and monitor the pilots’ transmissions. Be prepared to supply name, rank and serial number if accosted.

The Palm Bar, Adolphus Hotel. The Palm no longer features its “Beat the Clock” happy hour. In the old days, happy hour began with drinks at a set price, which increased 50 cents each half hour. Those days are no longer, but the Palm still pours a shot and a half all day long for $2. For eats, try “a French chefs answer to chili” – a beef dish packed with jalapenos which is ready to stuff into taco shells. The decor is as lovely as ever: mirrored booths with high glass backings, plenty of plants and the Palm logo everywhere.

But things are quiet here, too quiet. In another location the Palm would really pack ’em in, but unless you work downtown or plan on dinner at the Adolphus, why head downtown for happy hour?

Packard’s. With its four or five or six bars, the two dance floors and a beautiful old Packard belching colored smoke into the crowd, Packard’s somehow combines the squeaky-clean image of TV’s Fifties (a la Happy Days) with a raunchy disco beat – a nice incongruity. In fact, incongruity is the keynote here. At Packard’s, you almost expect Richie Cunningham, his eyes strangely glazed, to squeeze into one of the drugstore booths and order a soda – a scotch and soda, of course. The never-ending sound track here wanders through the hard-core Fifties (Elvis, Ricky Nelson, the Platters), but includes many Sixties classics and, later in the evening, more recent hits.

Crowds at Packard’s have leveled off somewhat since the club’s successful opening last November, but you can still expect to rub shoulders and more, like it or not, with hundreds of dancers, drinkers and cruisers during peak hours.

Packard’s happy hour rages from 4:30 until 9 p.m. Monday through Friday. Between 4:30 and 6 p.m., look for a buffetwith simple but filling fare. The beans andrice, a standby, are no threat to Andrew’s,but they are good. Popcorn is also available. After 7 on Friday nights, Packard’s charges a $2 cover.