In wine there is wisdom. In beer there is strength. In water there is bacteria.
The Windsor can have a sketchy crowd but it often has excellent bands. Watch out for a band that you might enjoy. It's the kind of place that white people only enter if they are a group of brave or cazy, already-drunk, roided-up, college bros on a dare. The place is physically in such an alarming state of disrepair, you marvel at the fact that it is allowed to remain open at all. Read more »
Five Star has been serving cheap beers on Main Street in Downtown LA for decades. Downtown’s recent “revitalization” has altered the bar’s working class demographic but regulars still nurse their $2 domestics while local bands play on the stage in the back.
The last time I was there the bartender wasn’t, so one of the patrons walked around the bar and served me a pitcher of Bud Light for $6. 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 »
To enter, one has to ring the doorbell and walk up to the first floor. It's not very sleazy, but it's open till late. Of course, the later you'll arrive, the more you feel at home. The clientele is a mixture of tourists and catalans, the drinks are relatively expensive, and there used to be a waitress with long legs, leather boots, a short skirt and a skimpy shirt, but I haven't seen her the last few times I was there.
But it's open untill quite late, or did I mention that already?
My friend Phil and I are always on the lookout for sleazy bars - it's a hobby, even though we're not gay. On a visit to Dublin we visited a very special pub in a fairly central location. Dublin is a strange city...On leaving Connelly Station, right in the heart of the city we walked for two minutes and found ourselves in a barren housing estate with youths riding huge horses bareback around the blocks of flats. After such a long walk we felt we needed a drink, so popped into a pub. Read more »
The Hub for many years was an incredible "hole in the wall" bar, it was dark and had the smell of old beer and booze hanging in the air,it had the worst bathrooms, but the best jukebox and the drinks were real....nothing watered down here. You could find anyone in there; from daily drunks to "society" people..it was the place to go.
No worries, just a sleazy good time.
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 »
They never close. In fact, there's no door.
The bartenders are hot young women - as long as you don't mind tatoos and piercings.
The jukebox has both the Cramps and Hank Williams. Abita Amber with a shot is the standard libation.
Not really a fighting crowd, they just look like one.
Deep under the surface of Portland lies the famous Geno's. The only way in is through a black door and down a narrow flight of stairs. Once down there, there is no escape, no help, as your cell phone has no service. A band will be playing loud punk music, ideally. The beer is no frills. The mixed drinks are strong. The bartender is trashed.
The lady's room has seen some action. The green room has seen more.
The most famous true tale of Geno's is GG Allen took a shit on the stage, and Geno himself kicked him out.