Bowl Bar Packaging & Liquor

A must see hot spot when visiting Miami. Whether you want 1 of 4 domestic beers or you want your dingdong touched, bowl bar is for you.

I’ve been to miami 4 times in my life, and visited this bar 4 times. I first came across this bar back in July 2015 by accident. This bar is across the street from marlins park and the best way to catch a buzz before and after going to a game. I love dive bars, and this one does not disappoint. Originally from San Diego, this bar is the diviest bar I’ve ever seen. The other reviews don’t lie. All paint a nice picture of how it is. Fake hookers keep single men happy, and then leave them broke. I make it a point to come here. Cheap drinks are always a plus. I really wish this place was a chain. Las Vegas could use a bar like this.

Shithole ! Change the American flag that is rotting off the flag pole. Very disrespectful.

If you walk into this place and stay more than 3 minutes and then walk out and give it a 1 star review… you sir are a 1 star person. Lets all be honest here… if you walk in and within the first 20 seconds cant tell this place is a seedy hole by the aroma of month old spilled beer, old leathery hookers, and the tinge of fecal matter… and you don’t walk back out… you got what you really wanted. and don’t want to admit it. This place reminds me of a bar I would see in Tijuana when looking for a night of debauchery in my early days. You know you secretly stay here because you want to see what the old ladies of the night will do next… who will come through the door… and if you can actually make it an hour without witnessing a felony in progress.
This bar is perfect if you go to the Marlins game with adults… as it should not be witnessed by a child under the age of 18… it will warp their mind and give them a tainted angle of human reality that may be a curse or a blessing. A group of men can walk in here and quickly be entertained even with little to no spanish. If you do speak the local tongue you can sit back and watch as those without the gift of communication are slowly drained of their cash by the old ladies who charge you $ 15 for a drink if they consume it… The best part is when the bill is delivered and watching the man try to keep his cool as he looks at how fast $ 15 drinks for hookers can tear up your bank account… all while trying to figure out how he will cover this expense from his wife.
If you want pretty… go to Brickell or the Beach… if you want real world entertainment… The Bowl Bar is where its at. Go here sparingly… you don’t want to be known as a regular of this establishment… nor will it help you advance in your career or marriage. But a trip here once in a while can remind those with basic street smarts how amazing this world is. and for that… it gets 5 stars.

This bar is the best of the «genre» of bars all along NW 7^th St. If you are familiar with it, you know what I mean. If not, go with an open mind. Girls frequent the place, you buy them drinks. Yours is $ 3 and theirs is $ 15. It’s just the way it works. It’s like watching sharks feed, but more fun.
FYI, just about every bar on NW7th near the stadium works like this. It is a cultural experience that makes Miami what it is… Try it.
The girls are like coin-​operated vending machines, and will keep you happy as long as possible to get more drinks. Be firm, and ask them not to guzzle it quickly. Ones with skirts are more likely to be fun. Late-​night on weekends is the best. Places like this can come in handy… Upscale, no. Clean, no. Fun, yes. A few words of Spanish will go a long way. BYOHS (Bring your own hand sanitizer.)

One of the best business in town. This is one of the friendliest and most helpful stores of any kind in Miami. Good selection of wine and liquor is top notch. You will never leave empty handed when you get to this place. I feel like keeping this place a secret because they got my favorite wine selection here than any other place. I am not that alcoholic but once in a while, this is my best place to shoo.

After hearing the Brian P. review read on radio by Dan Le Batard I knew I had to go to the Bowl Bar the next time I went to a Marlins game. Me and my friends went there around 5pm before a game and it was EMPTY inside. Although it was empty it was everything I dreamed of. It basically looked like a strip club inside without the polls, wall to wall mirrors, cheesy lighting and cubbies. After scoping out the place we got some beers before the game, the one cool thing they did was the waitress folded the napkin a special way around the beers to keep them cool. After awkwardly sitting there for an hour or so being the only people in the bar we left for the Marlins game.
Marlins lost.
We decide since it was only about 10:30 we would head back to the Bowl Bar to see it in all its glory. We get inside and this place was packed… although half the people there were women sitting alone. We find some bar stools away from people and decide to order a bucket. We let my friend who speaks spanish handle the bucket ordering during the process I hear the bartender say «chica» about 5 times. When the bartender brings back the beer and leaves my friend just starts cracking up and tell us she asked him in spanish if he would like a girl to «practice with» … Wtf?
As time passes the ladies there start creeping up on us slowly moving down seat by seat. My friend notices a strange door on the side… we figure thats the boom boom room. As we keep drinking we relise we have to get out of this place, but not before my friends curiosity gets the best of him. He decides to fake like he does not know where the bathroom is and is going to open the mystery door. He gets up and walks around the bar and slowly approches the door and puts his hand on the handle, all of a sudden the bartender and about 5 other people working there scream out «NOOOO!». He plays it off well that he is just looking for the bathroom, so he goes and we leave.
This place was so scummy and amazing, a true gem in Miami. I will return for sure next time I have out of towners at a Marlins game for a cultural experience.

Every now and then my friends and I hunt down super seedy bars in search of a good novelty experience. Bowl Bar isn’t just a bar, it’s more like a brothel you’d find in the slums of Managua. The interior is dim and dirty. Mirrors line the walls, and women who are definitely hookers just kind of sit around the perimeter of the bar. They will probably ask you to buy them drinks, so be ready to politely refuse. They will also probably jiggle their breasts at you. If you’re interested, they may take you into a corner and jiggle your balls as well. There’s a good chance reggaeton will be blasting, but there may also be no music at all. It’s particularly grim sitting there without music, just listening to the sounds of sorrow and the women of the night chatting away in Espanol. Bowl Bar I love you.

Bowl Bar, aptly named for its proximity to the old Orange Bowl site and its exterior’s resemblence to a place you’d likely find a lot of feces, is both a wonderful and horrifying establishment. At the same time, if that makes any sense. It’s sort of a melting pot of sadness and various diseases that modern medicine may or may not yet have a cure for. It’s majestic, really.
As you cross the street from Marlins Park and make your way to Bowl Bar (I can’t imagine the Pepsi logo in the bar’s name isn’t breaking some sort of copyright law, by the way), you’ll notice a brightly lit liquor store. That’s not it. You want the next door, the one that looks like you’re about to walk into a drug deal in the back of an abandoned building.
I entered that tiny door, The Gateway to Regret. This is my story:
The second I walk into Bowl Bar, I’m immediately transported to a strip club you’d find in a detective movie sometime between the late-70’s and early-80’s. Mirrors line the walls, while the majority of the floor is taken up by a huge, empty wooden bar. There aren’t any strippers, but it’s only 6:00 p.m., so who knows? The liquor store next door, with the bright lights and neon signs, is connected to Bowl Bar; the electricity, apparently, is not. And that’s probably a good thing.
There’s a man passed out on one of the stools closest to the door, his head resting on the wooden bar. He might be dead. The only other people in the place are a slightly-​intoxicated Spanish man on the other side of the bar and two female bartenders. My friend and I sit a few seats down from the corpse and order two Coronas.
Right away, we’re unsure of our decision.
«These come in a bottle, right?»
«I think so.»
«A sealed bottle???»
The bartender, a gigantic woman in a spaghetti strap top that’s roughly fourteen sizes too small, pops the caps on our beers and brings them over to us.
«Eight dollars. Would you like lime?» she asks in broken English.
The lime does not come in a sealed bottle. We politely decline.
After a few minutes, the bartender shuffles back from the liquor store next door with our change. One hand is holding dollar bills. The other hand is buried down her top, adjusting her massive boob, which seems as if it’s about to come spilling out at any second. She catches us staring and begins to laugh. We laugh. We all laugh. Together. Uncomfortably.
A little later, the back door opens and another young Spanish man walks in and sits across from us. He’s got an entire row of gold teeth. And what looks like a four-​year-​old. In a bar. For some reason, I’m not at all confused or alarmed by this. Just seemed like it fit. Shortly after that, the drunk guy from the other side of the bar comes over to wake the corpse. He rises from the dead and they slowly stumble out into the night. The man with gold teeth and questionable parenting skills leaves, too.
It’s just us now inside this bar-​slash-​cave, two 30-​something gringos completely out of their element. The person controlling the music notices this and, immediately, the slow, seductive sound of Latin music is replaced by Katy Perry’s «Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)». The DJ (?) is clearly pandering. This is our cue to leave. We’ve been here for almost thirteen minutes and that’s about twelve and a half minutes too long.
Walking out the front door is a legitimate shock to the senses. You almost forget that the place you just stepped out of is real. Or that it’s in a part of the world with running water. You leave Bowl Bar a changed person. Things looks newer. Colors appear more vibrant. Life has meaning. All this after spending just under 800 seconds inside.
If you’re in the area, I can’t say I recommend going to Bowl Bar. I also can’t say I don’t recommend it. I’m simply preparing you. And yet, somehow, you’ll still be unprepared.
***This review only applicable before 7:00 p.m. After that, I mean, hell, you’re on your own.***

Shadiest bar EVER. I seriously mean EVER. Unfortunately it’s the only bar near the Marlins’ stadium… so if you want to pregame it’s either here or home. First off no one speaks a bit of English. Like at all. Secondly, the place is decorated in all black, with mirrors on the wall, and music BLARING. They have a VERY limited selection of beer/​liquor. It’s cheap, I’ll give them that. And it’s in walking distance to the stadium. But that’s the only good thing.
Not to mention «ladies of the night» hang out here… and their bathrooms are so so disgusting. I had someone walk in on me as I was getting ready to leave (I thought the doors locked??), and they had a huge picture of a girl with her leg sliced open to remind you not to stand on the toilet when/​if you get drunk (I guess this happened… didn’t go well.).
It was just… weird. Scary? Weird mostly.

This shady place has «bar girls» who will hang out with you as long as you keep buying them $ 12 drinks. It’s like being in Costa Rica except the girls are less attracftive. The bartender also expects you to buy her drinks too so the money goes fast in this place!