Ben P.
Yelp
I broke a long-time rule and actually went to a DYL. Here. [This would be an odd story if the DYL was elsewhere, and I ended up reviewing this bar. Not that I haven't done similar things in the past. I just recognize that they're odd.]
Usually, I'm totally cool with dive bars. Hell, at the bars in my hometown that I grew up drinking in, Bacardi was considered top shelf. I was at a bar two months ago where the bartender confessed that, in two years of working there, she'd never made a martini before. THAT'S a dive bar. There was, however, just something about this dive bar that I didn't like. I'm a Mission resident, and even I don't like the stretch of Mission that the bar sits on. The bar is narrow, dark, noisy, the bathroom walls appear to be on the verge of achieving sentience (you'll know when they do, because they'll start screaming).
The drinks were cheap, and relatively strong. The pool table in the back runs true, and the cues were straight. If you don't believe me, you can ask the fellas my partner and I shellacked in a game of 8 ball.
Overall, my impression was basically that I can think of a half-dozen bars in a 4-block radius that are as cheap (or close), cleaner (by far), and nicer in general. But then, I'm an alcoholic---no, wait, I'm a drunk. It means I don't have to go to meetings. Which, in turn, frees up more time for drinking.