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| - Bob and Ann's. That's what Teschner's Tavern was called, back in the Dark Ages of my drinking life, when a shot and a beer was about as exotic as it got, when Ann flipped burger at the grill, and Bob held court at the other side of the bar, on a stool, and laughed his low, chugging smoker's laugh at any tired joke proffered by one of the permanent fixtures seated on the other side. Deer heads, dogs playing poker in velvet, sticky floors, but damn, could you drink all night for five bucks.
These days, it has even less charm, locked in the struggle between updating the atmosphere and decor to circa 1985 and saying, "Aww, screw it. People come here to drink, they will always come here to drink. Why bother?"
I'm told they serve food here. Pool table. Seating/bar/restroom layout that defies logic or explanation.
As a local watering hole, dive bar, cheap drunk place, it gets four stars. If they would please turn the music down, somewhere below ear-bleed level, that would be swell. One recent night we stopped in on our way elsewhere to grab a drink. Two guys at the bar were working way too hard to get the two women working that night to meet them later. I was tempted to take over bar duties so the four of them could get a room down the road at Terry Point Motel (rooms furnished, or unfurnished, by the night or by the week). One star off for general creepiness, and young, puffy jugheads on the never-ending trail of tears. Get me the hell out of here.
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