I didn't eat there. I wouldn't eat there. I felt strange about being there in flip-flops. This place is gross. I'm not talking about it being a dive bar. I like dive bars. You know how there is a difference between being in a parking lot and being in the dumpster? Ya, like that.
The clientele is scary here. The bar is da-da-dirty. The Karaoke was heinous and extremely loud. You could not hear anything over Crack McCrackerson shouting out Whitesnake. We fled outside to see if it was any better. It was quieter and had all the ambiance of a holding cell.
If you want to have your arse-kicked by a meth-head, or have a rambling convo with a deranged retiree this is your place! Don't forget your closed-toe shoes and hobo-stab insurance.