Callahans Bar & Grill

depending what kind of bar you like, you may or may not like this. this is a dive bar. very dark and gloomy inside. no frills. it feels like a dirty old bar. the crowd is older, mostly 55+ and they all know each other. this is the kind of place you go to get drunk. really drunk. they do have some tables and booths. not alot. it’s on the cheaper side. the food is pretty good. they have a full menu. it’s mostly men and the crowd is a little scary. the last time i was in there, the bartender, a girl, was really rude to me. maybe because i was one of the few chicks in there. she kissed the guys asses but treated me badly and i left because of her crappy attitude. if you want a totally no frills bar, somewhere to get drunk and stupid, it’s the place for you. don’t go in here hoping to score with a hot chick or guy. there’s only a couple tvs.

Jetta R takes me to the nicest places. Luckily, she was driving, so as soon as the first strains of country karaōke hit my ears I ordered a drink.
The mic passed between the karaōke guy, and a couple of other bar patrons throughout the night. Hey, girl with the baby face — quit it with the downer fucking songs. Jetta R is sitting in the booth next to me, noshing on sub-​par potato skins, whispering «I hope they play ‘Natural Woman’ next.» No, honey, i don’t think this is that sort of joint. This is where hope comes to die.
This is so not the bar to take your transexual girlfriend. Especially when you’ve quit smoking. And it’s been so long since you last had a drink that one Guinness goes straight to your head and you wind up telling your girlfriend’s co-​workers more than they need to know about family infighting. Although those same «friends» would have just stared at us all night with a mixture of rabid curiosity and moral disapproval anyway.
The food is cheap, the drinks are cheap, the bartender sings karaōke and was actually really pleasant to us. I think we were at least 5 – 10 years younger than any of the other patrons. It’s really a neighborhood bar, and we’re not from the neighborhood.
Man, am I glad I didn’t get dressed up for this.