You walk in. This place says "bar." Ray Charles on the jukebox. A woman with big boobs, a tiny skirt and cowboy hat playing pool and drinking a Bud. Graffiti-covered walls, stools and ATM. Heart playing on the jukebox. People who, if they aren't pirates now, once were. Old toothless guys. Bikers. Young, white-bred frat guys. Mexican guys. Indian guys. A few college women. An honest-to-gawd shuffleboard table. A Peter Gabriel song. The rattiest old buffalo head you've ever seen. Neon. Smoke bar kitsch. Some of us old-timers miss places like the Manhattan, now buried under the Ronstadt Transit Center, but the Buffet still brings back fond memories of those old dive bars of yore. (BELCH). They just don't make 'em like this anymore.
2. Che's Lounge, 346 N. Fourth Ave., 623-2088
3. The Shelter, 4155 E. Grant Road, 326-1345