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| - Whenever I find myself at a dive bar, I usually reach for Purell and a brown paper bag. Pattie's made me wish for both of those AND an invisibility cloak. I didn't want to see anyone at Pattie's, and I didn't want to be seen there. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time hanging out with my friends, but I'd much rather hang out with them somewhere else.
Patties looks like a frat house, and not the good kind. Drunk and potentially high gentlemen (some sporting half-mullets) were playing beer pong on a 3/4-regulation size ping pong table. By 'playing,' I mean they were missing the cups by 6 feet. If they were playing baseball, they would have walked the bases loaded, and then walked in a couple of runs!
The old, outdated TVs were tuned to the all-important "no signal" channel. Our attempts to change the channel to literally ANYTHING else proved fruitless. Because of the 3-wall rule (apparently, you can smoke wherever the room only has 3 walls) AND the lack of air conditioning, I inhaled more second-hand smoke than I intended to. At least the bartender, who made ME look like a skinny midget in comparison, kept fishing bottles of beer out of an ice-filled cooler.
We stayed at Pattie's for a short while and called it a night. Maybe I am too old or too much of a neat freak, but Pattie's is just not for me.
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