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Most Creepy and Disgusting Dive Bar


Wilfrid

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Also:

San Diego's STAR BAR.

New Orlean's CIRCLE BAR--my God--they played non-stop Richard Hell for 45 minutes!! Great!

And in the down-memory-lane department--the pre-Guliani Billy's Topless: bruised, heavily tattooed strippers, waddling through lackluster moves to Bon Jovi on the juke, embittered bartenders, no cover, septic bathrooms--all the elements of a great dive.

And lest we forget: Simon's sanctum sanctorum in London: The Wenlock Arms--as fine a drinking establishment as any on earth--and quickly becoming the New Algonquin of 21st Century Brit-Wits. I believe there's a comprehensive collection of Focus bootlegs on the juke to calm Simon down when they cut him off at the bar.

abourdain

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Don't forget the 'World Famous' Wakamba Lounge,on Eighth Ave. and 36th st....architectural detail;on the corner of the building where Billys' topless used to be[24th &6th ave.],there's a little stone placard with great lettering above the 1st floor-it just says 'the corner'...I wonder what it once might have been..

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What's the one in Tijuana I'm thinking of - something innocently called The Frog, is that possible? Went there from San Diego with Therapy? and Helmet. They played, I got stomped on by a particularly aggressive female skin head. We got pulled over by the Mexican police. Luckily, we had been warned and all the unmentionables were back in San Diego.

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In the 70s; Fanelli's. Also the Cedar on University. Not real divey though.

The old Ramrod on 12th Ave could be scary. As were the assorted after-hours bars around the Deuce. What was I doing there? Well I ran with a pretty *diverse* crowd back then.

Nick

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Don't forget the 'World Famous' Wakamba Lounge,on Eighth Ave. and 36th st....architectural detail;on the corner of the building where Billys' topless used to be[24th &6th ave.],there's a little stone placard with great lettering above the 1st floor-it just says 'the corner'...I wonder what it once might have been..

From The Curious New Yorker: "Built in 1879, it was called The Corner, and was the beer hall annex to Koster & Bial's Vaudeville Theater/Concert Hall, where Victor Herbert conducted his forty-piece orchestra."

The Wakamba Lounge is where Patrick Dorismond was killed by police a few years ago, by overzealous narcotics cops who were trying to goad him into a drug sting.

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can i even remember the names of these places?

once while visiting new orleans i ate some psilocybin mushrooms and wandered through audubon park and into a hole bar off some side street. i approached a youngish man sitting at the bar. "My god," i said, "You're so drunk! And it's so early."

"Look!" he pointed to the wall behind me. "An enormous angel is unfurling her wings."

a couple hours later i ended up at tipitina's and told the bartender this story. "Oh, I see you've met robert," he said. "About five years ago he drove his car as fast as he could into a brick wall." :sad:

that night we drove to metairie to play pool at a place called Zaps, i think--or Zots--in any case, surely the diviest dive in divedom. my friend was in nursing school and someone began yelling for her to come outside, quick.

there was a naked man staggering on the sidewalk, bleeding profusely from the testicles. he'd had to make a quick escape from a brothel just up the street, and, unable to unlatch the jalousy, attempted to crawl through the glass pane. his eyes were wide, his flesh white and gummy, like raw pizza dough. i'll never forget it.

pretty soon the paramedics arrived, and the man became strangely animated and confused, darting like a rabbit into the crawd, which broke in a wide arc around him as he attempted to leap into a bush. finally a stocky, haggard-looking female paramedic got close enough to croon, "Okay, okay, buddy, it's okay. Let us help you, buddy."

the man stood still and suddenly everything was quiet. the medic silently threw open a large white sheet. a hot breeze caught the sheet and opened it around him gently, and as the cloth fell over his body, he sank slowly into a heap on the pavement, his eyes wide and staring, like eggs over easy.

it was one of the most tragic images i've ever witnessed. it was a very long time ago.

Edited by stellabella (log)
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Thanks Stella! Your post made my dive bar memories seem squeaky clean!

Montreal, early seventies (when women, by law, could still not enter taverns)

Near McGill, where I was a sixteen year old freshman:

The Swiss Hut (or Hutte Suisse) Reasonably clean, and absolute paradise for under-age drinkers. Drinking age was still 20, back then. My girlfriends and I *always* got served. Ah yes, the many pitchers of Molson Ex consumed! Only once had to slip out the back door in a hurry because of a police raid.

Chicago:

The Old Town Ale House on Wells. Handsome bartender, lots of smoke, "diverse" clientele, and Robert Merrill and Jan Pearce dueting on "Au Fond du Temple Sainte" on the jukebox.

Fort McMurray, Alberta:

The Peter Pond. Haven't been there myself, but my brother bounced there during the heyday of the Tar Sands. His stories can still make my hair curl.

Margaret McArthur

"Take it easy, but take it."

Studs Terkel

1912-2008

A sensational tennis blog from freakyfrites

margaretmcarthur.com

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Stellabella that was great, felt like moving through time and space paying no mind to normal physical laws.

I like egg similies a lot...and yours is right up there with Tom Wolfe's sloshing egg-yolk brain of the alcoholic British ex-pat journalist in Bonfire of the Vanities.

Priscilla

Writer, cook, & c. ●  Twitter

 

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I must sing the pleasures of a small-town dive. Mary Ann's, in Colts Neck, NJ. Colts Neck is essentially a farm town discovered by ex-pat New Yorkers and turned into a very high-priced NYC bedroom community (with Mafia touches) and now known as the place where Bruce Springsteen lives (he also recorded "Nebraska" there). But on Route 537, on the corner of Muhlenbrink Road, Mary Ann's sat in her faded glory. My childhood best friend lived right behind Mary Ann's, and we started getting served there when we were about 14. There was a big pool table, MGD and Bud on draft, a jukebox stocked with ancient country and rock tunes and a good fight every Friday night. Oh, and great pizza and pork roll sandwiches, too. The bar was generally populated with farm workers and Marines from the Naval weapons station, so two teenage girls got a LOT of attention there :shock:

When we were younger, we even went trick or treating there. We'd come out with at least twenty bucks apiece. :biggrin:

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*grin* I didn't pay much attention to this thread when it started, but as I read all the replies the memories start returning:

The Point After in Orlando, FL - truly great dive outside the city limits. The tables were cable spools laying on their sides with photos imbedded in a poured-lucite/plastic cover. A typical night would be watching a babe kicking ass at the pool table - shooting with one hand (not bracing the cue). Walking into the men's room and seeing a guy in a stall (no doors, of course) snorting some powdery substance off his knee. Cheap beer :)

Edgewater and Parr, again, in Orlando. Tuesdays were tequila-shots-for-a-quarter (that's 25 CENTS!) night....... hooboy - you didn't wanna be there at closing. 'Specially the tequila-night Steppenwolf was supposed to play - we waited until like 12:30 before some band showed up with Steppenwolf's old drummer.....it was BAD.

Pink Pussykat in Orlando :) Strip joint. Beer in foam cups. Buddy of mine married one of the strippers - I got rolled by another one.

(seems as if they're all in Orlando)

nameless strip joint outside of one of the Forts in Florida - East Coast. Babes missing limbs - not as a feature...just missing things.

Hmmm...Creston, Iowa. Hotel bar downtown. Beeyooteeful corn-fed midwest babe waiting table, girls' half-court highschool on the tube...cheap beer. Bernings'?

I've been in that bar up in Saratoga - excellent place and legendary with the locals.

The Rathskeller in Middletown, CT. Keep your hand on your wallet and sit with your back to the wall.

Country-music joint in Westerly, Rhode Island. Dive with tourist-babes and haltertops :)

*grin* I'm almost blushing.....almost.

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  • 1 month later...
Tuman's Alcohol Abuse Center in Chicago, Illinois.  Total dive, but my favorite bar in the city.  You can get tanked on a $20 bill there (think $2.50 pints of Guinness). 

I know the place. I heard it closed in December. Does anyone know this to be true?

Other Chicago mentions: The Cove (in Hyde Park). Dirty old man bar. $4 pitchers of MGD. If you order Heinken, the spout produces MGD. Iused to order drinks there in my under-age days where you automatically got 2 glasses because the very old bartender insisted on doing everything in the blender.

Jimmys Woodlawn Tap use to be more of a dive before a slight trixieifcation. Still, people keep coming back for the burgers and fries. People from the neighborhood, professors, grad students. Stodgy bartenders.

Anyone here remember the Tiki Hut in HP. Ultimate dive bar where the waitresaurus serve you food as the hack into it. Frequent fights among the patrons roll into the street on Sat. night.

Ahh, college. Now, I head for the bars with better beer.

NYC: The Night Cafe near Columbia.

DC: The Fox and Hound, The Big Hunt (be careful- can be very yuppified)

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Good evening all. This is my first post on this site,; came across it while surfing.

First of all, I am a professional chef in Louisiana (be kind) and this seems to be a very knowledgable group of posters.

Can't speak for creepy, but I know the most vile odor I have ever encountered is Bourbon Street in New Oleans. A mix of fried food, vomit, and urine is enough to turn the most hardened olfactory into a dripping, sniffing organ. Now don't get me wrong, I love The City, but the title of the post intrigued me and I had to throwq in my 02 cents.

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Good evening all.  This is my first post on this site,; came across it while surfing.

First of all, I am a professional chef in Louisiana (be kind) and this seems to be a very  knowledgable group of posters.

Can't speak for creepy, but I know the most vile odor I have ever encountered is Bourbon Street in New Oleans.  A mix of fried food, vomit, and urine is enough to turn the most hardened olfactory into a dripping, sniffing organ.  Now don't get me wrong, I love The City, but the title of the post intrigued me and I had to throwq in my 02 cents.

I once spent a few days in NO on business. The first day, my (female) boss and I walked around the Quarter & down Bourbon Street at around 5:30 in the afternoon. Between the smell, the hoards of drunks even at that hour, and the sleazy establishments lining the street, we both felt like we wanted to run back to the hotel and shower off. I never had the pleasure of walking down 42nd Street in its heyday, but this was as close as I've come.

Further east, the Quarter gets more residential & quiet and it's actually pleasant to walk around--I liked the architecture.

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Here in Kalamazoo, MI we have our share of dive bars. An ex-boyfriend and I made a list and promised ourselves that we would explore them all. After several weekends of mastering such places as the "Ko-zee Inn" and the "Green Top," we discovered one next to the prison called the "Duck In Waddle Out." It's a cinderblock building with no windows. The sign is quite cute--a little duck with a top hat and cane. We walked in the door. My boyfriend took one look at the place, turned to me, and said: "this was a bad night for me to wear sandals." They wouldn't serve us. It may have been the sandals.

Noise is music. All else is food.

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