Dive Bar Crusades: Part One

For those who seek a watering hole devoid of polo-shirts, mini-skirts and the sickening smell of Drakkar Noir, let me introduce you to my two favorite arenas:


Shamelessly bedecked in gaudy mirrors and velvet-hewn d├ęcor, 15 minutes in this place makes you feel like a badass. Maybe it is the Judas Priest pounding at your ears, or the Sailor-Jerry oil paintings of naked women on the walls. Or it could be the fact that you can get PBR in a tallboy, Schlitz in a can or a Jack and Coke stiffer than your mom.

The bastard child of Sixth Street, the Jackelope has so much to offer: a lone pool table where you can school your cohorts, red lanterns that make even the girliest of boys look like a rough rider, a giant mirror where you can check yourself out in all your badass glory, and a bar-full of Rockabilly girls with short bangs. If you ask me, drinking has never been cooler.

However- if the thought of hanging out in the general area of Sixth street makes you cringe (it happens to the best of us), let me suggest a much more user-friendly dive bar on the other side of town.


Inconspicuously located on the corner of South 1st and Oltorf, this is one of those places where you “park in the back, go through the unmarked door and hope you don’t get shot.” Rumor has it that the Lounge used to be some sort of adult entertainment hub, which is why the parking lot is surrounded by barbed wire fences, and everything seems to be lined in dingy mirrors. There are a few linty pool tables with warped cues and chipped 8 balls, torn-pleather 50’s style seating strewn haphazardly about, and two friendly dogs roaming the premises (much to the Health Departments chagrin, I’m sure).

A far cry from the screaming metal-rock at the Jackalope, the Lounge has an old-school jukebox loaded with Hank Williams, Tom Waitts, Johnny Cash (all the trendy anti-trendy stuff); I strongly advise not putting a dollar into the fortune machine (like the one in the movie “Big”), but save your money for the wall after wall of eclectic pinball machines.

As if playing pinball sober wasn’t fun enough- the price is right to get drunk at the G&S Lounge. Their lack of draft beers (Dos XX is it, buddy!) is more than compensated for in the 5 plus refrigerators stocked with every domestic and import beer you can imagine. A girl like me can easily spend hours snuggled against the pit-bull adorned bar, watching UFC championships and drinking the hottest beverage in Belgium right now.

As a new Austinite, my adventures in dive-bar-a-hunting will continue, of this I’m certain. And in the meantime, you obviously know where to find me.

Oh, and If anyone knows of a good biker bar- I’m always down for some ZZ Top.

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