I'm not a pot smoker, but as I entered Dulcinea's, I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to light up a fatty, tie-dye my clothing and start doing the Woodstock flower-child dance. As I deeply inhaled the hippie atmosphere, the guy next to me said, "I'll be 25 in May, and this is the sweetest, most kickass bar I've ever been to." Since the 24-year-and-eleven-month-old seemed like a regular, I had to ask: "Dude, do you happen to know what the 100th monkey means?" He looked at me with his big, muddled green eyes and served up what appears to be standard Dulcinea's lore, that the owners got the name from Jerry Garcia's mention of The Hundredth Monkey, Ken Keyes Jr.'s book on social consciousness. And I believed him, because you can't make up a goofy story like that. The book theorizes that when a concept reaches the 100th monkey, or critical mass, the greatest possibility for change occurs. This explanation, which lasted 25 excruciating minutes, made it imperative that I alter my own consciousness -- immediately. After a quick trip to the women's restroom -- where monkeys sit in martini glasses -- I was ready to explore the intoxicants available at Dulcinea's. The bartender suggested a lawful inebriant, the 57 T-Bird With Hawaiian Plates ($5.50), which is made with well vodka, DeKuyper Amaretto, Southern Comfort, Grand Marnier and pineapple juice. Not exactly what I would have expected from a bartender wearing a T-shirt with the slogan "I traded all my tomorrows for a single yesterday" on the back, but at least I didn't get the munchies.