Sarah Jane W.
Yelp
I like dive bars for the cheap drinks... but even more for the unpretentious sanctuary they offer in a city full of poseurs.
UNFORTUNATELY, the f*cking hipsters have turned what was once a nice, quiet, miserable dive full of toothless methheads and winos into an edgy watering hole full of bicycle-riding, big black-plastic-framed-glasses-wearing Portland, Ore. wannabes.
I came here on the night of 7.16.11, and at first all was well: methheads at the bar, winos in the corner, box of Franzia unabashedly on tap. The atmo was dim, gloomy, wood-paneled and grim -- just what I likes.
Then, the invasion began. They trickled in one by one in their skinny jeans and ironic t-shirts, piling their bicycles in the corner, making ironic jukebox selections and swilling hipster ambrosia a/k/a Pabst Blue Ribbon.
When the bicycles outnumbered the meth-heads, I knew it was time to get the hell out of there. I wish these punk-ass kids would stick to their bedrooms in those ugly new houses! Shoo, junior -- I heard there's this awesome secret pizza place at the Cosmo that no one knows about -- why don't you go check that out and leave us authentic dive bar denizens alone?
Meanwhile, I was grumbling all of this into a totally UN-unpretentious Campari & soda.
But goddammit -- I'M supposed to be the only ironic one in these places!