So, now I know what it means to enter the dark world that is Jerry Springer’s mind. If he had a bar in NYC this would be it. I am a big fan of dive bars, and truly love hanging out in them, but The Patriot is something special. It’s the kind of bar that borders on cartoonish imagery to the dark recesses of someone’s twisted psyche.
Cheap beer. Effing. Cheap. Beer. Cheap effing drinks. Some cheap bar food too – burgers, wings, hot dogs. Did I mention this place is cheap to drink at? Cheap!
Bra’s and panties hanging off the walls and ceiling. Yee Haw!
Pinball machine, pool tables upstairs, killer jukebox, divey decor, and goofy weird stuff like an alligator on a surfboard suspended from the rafters. All that’s needed is a monster truck parked outside and mud wrestling pit to complete the ambiance.
The bathroom is the portal to Hell and every STD known to human existence. No, seriously, it’s a dive bar bathroom that puts some of the worst I have ever been at to shame. Calling the bathroom here disgusting and gross is actually paying it a compliment. It’s a blessing being a dude as we can stand and not touch anything to take a pee. If you are a girl I truly feel sorry for you. If you have to do the #2 then “the hover” is the only option. Do not let anything touch human flesh while in it!
Country music and southern fried rock playing all day long. Think Alabama, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Outlaws, and Molly Hatchet. All AMURRICA here baby!
Cute-ish sexy tattooed female bartenders that look a bit like they either want to call you “sweetie”, make out with you while smoking a cigarette, or shank you in the back when you’re not looking. Or all the above. Choose wisely, as you take your life into your own hands here.
When we walked up I noticed a sign outside proclaiming, “Shameless Slut Bartenders Wanted – Inquire Within.” Inside scattered about a few tables the “talent” or “victims” were filling out job applications.
It was early in the evening, and the place was kind of empty save for a few of the regulars that look like they could have actually been on the Jerry Springer show. We still had a few more bars to hit and the night was young, so we just had a few PBR’s, a shot of Jamesons, and admired the trashy dive decor. Grimy, dirty, smelly, and beaten down with shattered dreams of hope and wobegone optimism of all the youth that have worked here or passed through these doors. I love a good dive bar. I don’t know why but I love this bar. Southern fried honky tonk love. It’s so wrong but it feels so right. I was told that late night into the wee hours plenty of debauchery goes on here.
I moved in the following week. I think I need a tetanus shot.
The Patriot Saloon –