Been a bit, hasn’t it? Or maybe it hasn’t, as time seems to stand still when you’re stuck in this seventh level of Hell.
But let’s focus on where I went last night…Downtown Clarksville. More specifically the APSU/Franklin Street area. There are a ton of places to pray for death while paying too much for drinks. But who deserves your hard-earned dollars from your overtime pay at the Cat West? Compare and contrast below:
The Front Page Deli:
Holy balls, this place is still open? Yes, the giant empty building across from the Roxy Theater/Dance Parlor actually has a bar inside of it. You want a quiet bar where you can ponder why you’re still here? You want a world of empty tables where you can choose your seat? You want to be charged for top-shelf liquor when you just wanted a simple mixed drink? IT’S ALL HERE! They have a big lighted sign when you enter that says “EAT HERE, DIET HOME”. I thought it said “EAT HERE, DIE AT HOME.” I wouldn’t go so far as to say their food will kill you (it’s fine), but you might die of loneliness if you drank here every night. They must have a rent-controlled building from the 40’s to still be able to stay open.
The Tap Room:
Ah, the old standby classic, still the same as it was when we first visited years ago. Wait, it’s nothing like the old Tap Room. I’ll be honest, it was easy to hate this place a couple years ago. They had just ripped out the carpets and removed the comfortable seating. It felt like you were on a sinking pirate ship, being forced to go down with the douchebag crew. The floors creaked like Edgar Allen Poe was going to bust out and curse you. The on-tap beers tasted like raccoon piss and soy milk. The music was so deafening your other senses were heightened so you could see and smell the failure coming off the patrons.
It’s still easy to hate any place in Clarksville, but I hate the Tap Room slightly less than I used to. Tap Room owners, feel free to put that on your advertising:
They had a friendly waitress wandering taking orders, despite the busy tizzy. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t think the Tap Room became a cigar bar. Smoker-friendly bars are the norm and I usually don’t care. But my whole crew was choking it down last night, and I don’t mean the drinks (or weiners). Maybe it’s the K-Mart ceiling fans not doing their jobs, but the smoke was too much for even me.
Wanna hear a sad story? Last night the Gilroy was celebrating its 1-year anniversary. The zany DJ at one point brought up special patrons that had spent at least $2500 over the last year. They were given a celebratory bottle of champagne and a plate on the wall to remain there for ETERNITY. The ultimate red badge of cirrhosis now available at the Gilroy for the price of 55″ 3-D top of the line television.
Anyway, beyond that The G’roy was a wacky adventure that basically looked like a Nashville club if all the women were at a Kohl’s midnight sale. Yep, it was full o’ dudes. A female friend that was with us said “a woman would have no trouble getting laid here”. Of course I thought she said “a woman would have no trouble getting AIDS here”…I agreed heartily on both accounts. Not really the bar’s fault that it was a sausage factory I guess–just another case of the Clarksvilles.
Instead of prosed-up snarky paragraphs, let me just give you a timeline of our experience at the Pea Patch:
0-60 seconds: Stand in line by “velvet rope” in front of bar.
61-120 seconds: Have my lower body professionally rubbed to check for weapons (always a good sign).
121-150 seconds: Walk to bar to prepare for a beverage purchase.
151-166 seconds: Watch woman with three male friends march towards front entrance. She yells at some guy “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE MOTHERFUCKER!”, then punches him in the face.
167-240 seconds: Three men pummel guy they don’t like while security struggles to pull them apart. Pummeled guy is removed while original puncher girl calls him “faggot” and “motherfucker”
241-250 seconds: Find exit as quickly as possible.
Sorry we couldn’t give you a review longer than 5 minutes Pea Patch. I was worried when we didn’t see Patrick Swayze and Sam Elliott around to keep us safe. So we decided leaving before we were shanked was the best option.
Remember when (insert bar) didn’t suck? No, it’s true. EVERY bar that sucks today “used to be awesome”…at least if you ask people that have been in Clarksville for the past 10 years.
The Front Page Deli
“Remember when this place used to have live bands every night? Man those were the days!”
The Tap Room
“Remember when the juke box was in the main room and they had carpet and big booths to chill in? Man those were the days!”
“Remember when these were empty buildings? Man those were the days!”
There are so many safer, cheaper, and easier ways to get drunk (i.e. at home or at a buddy’s house). But if you must head out, umm, well I’ve got no good advice. How about, “Run AWAY from the sound of gun fire”? Yeah, that should do it.