The Green Bar has been open twenty four hours a day, every day since 1968 and has never closed. The bartender is enclosed in a huge iron cage. To obtain a drink, one hands 18 KSh through the grill and receives one warm, 500ml bottle of Tusker Beer. (If you want a cold one ask for a 'Tusker baridi'). Read more »
This is a bar you only pay a visit in case everything else is closed, and your beer muscle is calling steadily.
Just let us tell you about a night Pete and Fabio were on a mission (again). We tried to convince this bar girl of this standard no-fun-at all-Irish-bar O'Donnel's around the corner to keep her bar open (and taught her how to serve an "amsterdammertje") but she turned out to be a party-pooper. Fortunally, her colleague (let's call him Dwight) showed more balls and escorted us to the place where you don't want to be found dead: de Mazzeltof. Read more »
Let me say this about that.
A year or so ago, I wrote a series of blogs extolling the virtues of one of my favorite subjects - ‘Sleazy Bars’. Hanging out in a sleazy bar is like hands-on research for all the evils you hear about when you go to church. In fact, it is rumored that Moses did not receive the 10 Commandments from God during a little mountain-climbing expedition to Mount Sinai, but assembled these moral imperatives from notes taken while slamming tequila shots in a sleazy bar. Read more »
The last time I visited this place it turned out that the name was changed to the owner's name but I forgot his name ;-)
Not really important cause it's still the same old dark, smokey shithole you're looking for after hours.
The atmosphere really depends on what night you come in, could be lost drunk students, or coke sniffing criminals having a party. Read more »
Since ages the closing times of bars in amsterdam are a complete disaster.
This is a problem for me as a part-time bartender because I like to sit down and have a nice drink in a bar after a long night of work.
Or tell my clientele where to go when I have to sweep the floor. So nightbars are a must. Read more »
Slightly after 3:00 am i stood in front of the Feuermelder. Attached to the door is a sign stating geoffnet: Ma-Sa ab 15:00, Sontag ab 13:00. Is this a joke? Or is there a thruth to it. Intrigued, i opened the sequential doors and entered. All patrons turned around instantly and stared at me. Determined, i found a place at the bar ready to order. No barman. Read more »
Berlins first club daily 24 houres open!
Placed underneath the S-bahn at Hackescher Markt, this looks like a real dive. It is said that the am to pm is a normal cafe during the day. It changes into a club as the pm progresses and the am begins to dawn. So the am to pm transforms itself two times a day. Read more »
This is not a review of a single bar, but more of an area I stumbled upon. The Reichsbahnausbesserungswerk (RAW) is the old repair terrain for the trains during the DDR reign. The area contains numerous run down buildings, and is completely covered by grafiti. No worry here if you shout your lungs out. Or try a bit of frustrated beer bottle smashing. Read more »
Located at 532 Ninth Ave. (Midtown West) Between 39th and 40th Sts. Wow. I didn't know this place still existed in the new New York City. I had to meet my friend in the area and I wanted to go to a bar. I looked this up on the Internet and thought it was safe enough. I ended up being 20 minutes late. I found my friend at the bar sipping from a bottle of Budweiser(yech) while slowly but noticebaly giving sidelong glances to the barflies.
There was this woman in her 50's, noticably drunk and just yelling to herself as she walked up and down the bar. Sometimes she would get a response from the bartender or apparently some regulars at the end of the bar. It was hard to say. Read more »
Located in a suburb (Amalo Ikhiribin) of Khenifra, populated with immigrants from the Middle Atlas Mountains. Entering this bar you will see tables loaded with beerbottles. The tabels are never cleared. The more beerbottles you will collect the thougher you are. Obviously. If you are served by a female she will probably be a prostitute. Supply her with beer if you want to make a chance. Actually ALL the women entering this bar are prostitutes...
Drinks are prized normally.
What a dump this glorious hellhole is.
From the decaying bathrooms to the thousands of names scratched into the wooden walls and tables, Grassroots is truly sleazy.
I almost cried when they put in new speakers, and a more modern jukebox.
Alas, it is still disgusting, and I will always cherish it when I am there.
Portland has a lot of bars that sell themselves as dives but a pitcher of PBR will cost you an arm and a leg.
At Bottomz Up you will pay at most $4 a pitcher and on select nights (Tues. and Thurs.) you pay $2.50. Any good sleazy bar needs some pool tables and Bottomz Up doesn't dissapoint with a few 3/4 sized tables.
There is no smoking in any bar in Maine any longer but you can be damn sure this place would thick with smoke if those dicks in power let us do our thing! The clincher for me is no white hat f*ckers dare show up and the place is owned and operated by a Vietnamese family that serves kick ass cheap noodles and other Vietnamese specialties.
Unfortunately they host karaoke night once a week and that just sucks balls (sometimes it's funny).
Don not know the exact number, but it is behind a grey door ...
They have a jukebox on which you can select videoclips.
Open till late.
Post-scriptum: The above is rather an understatement. It is (or at least was ) the sleaziest bar I have ever been in, in Barcelona. It is a meeting point of all kinds of criminals: ranging from street thugs, to pimps, to east european maffia. It has quite a ominous atmosphere (think David Lynch), and while it's a good place when you still want more beer, it's not the place to make new friends (in whatever meaning of that phrase).
No worries, just a sleazy good time.
Upon entering the FunHog Ranch, you become aware in a matter of seconds that the owners are from Iowa. This is a good thing. If only for the Pork Tenderloin Sandwich.
The FunHog sits between the Las Vegas Strip to the west, and the "Hood" directly to the east. Status means nothing once inside. You could be a boss on the strip, but you are just a "Hog" within those four walls. There is no black, white, brown, or yellow skin. There is no straight or gay. Just "Hog".
Business owners, Dr's, Lawyers, crack whores, street bums, secretaries, dancers, constuction, coaches, politico's. Just "Hog". Read more »