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What are your favorite places to drink?


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Left-field knoll, Tempe Diablo (Gene Autry Stadium, especially when Marco was one of the beer-guys!)...

Top-West Bacuzzi, Tempe Buttes...

Dos Gringos, Tempe (especially if Chucky's serving!)

Whichever house the "Boston Crew" has rented for their ST trip...

AI Long Beach... usually Tuesday-drinkin...

Backyard, watchin/listenin to the Halos!

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This made me think of a place in Newport I used to go to called the Snug Harbor.  Of course, it was torn down to build a giant cement lmixed use loft space, which makes no sense.  It was across from The Cannery and it stunk of sewage, dried beer, and 40-plus years of lawless smoking. 

 

It had been there for years and was a real treasure.  John Wayne used to go there and wasn't bothered.  A real salty dog place.  There was a bartender there named "Harry," who used to be a boxer.  He had these big, saggy eyes and would mumble.  Bill came in later and tried to fit in by giving a select few patrons free drinks all the time.  Let's just say he was a terrific bartender.

 

There was another bartender that hated anyone under 50.  He would yell at us if we used the f-word or anything stronger than 'darn.'  "We don't use that kinda of language in here, mister!"

 

The toilet flooded over a few times a night.  The juke box still played singles and if the bartenders didn't like the song ("Brown Eyed Girl" for the 100th time that night, for example), then a master volume switch would quiet the volume.


My spot was usually leaning against the jukebox.  If i didn't like a song -- there's always some a-hole who puts on a god awful selfish jukebox song...typically country -- then I would kick the side of the juke which skipped the record to the end and the next selection would come on.  Bill the bartender would look up, see it was me and carry on like nothing happened.

 

On the other side of the bar was a bumper pool table.  To gain favor from the, er, doorman named Jon Jon (I called him Crap Crap), you would ask Jon Jon for advice as to where to hit the pool ball.  He'd point to a spot on the side of the table without saying a word, like he was some all-knowing pool table god.  He had a pony tail.

 

The drinks were very strong.  The most popular was the screwdriver, also known as the Snug-driver.  If you had just one, you couldn't do anything the next day except go back to the Snug.

 

If someone dared call the Snug on the phone, the bartenders usually grabbed the receiver and for some reason they would smack it on the bar twice before saying "Snug."  Not that the person on the end could hear anything.

 

On Friday and Saturday nights, when the UCI reyn spooner crowd showed up, there were at least two fights each night.  They usually ended up in the street outside, so those in the know never parked in front.  It was a sucker's parking space.

 

There was one female bartender.  Her name was Fay, and she looked like a Fay.  Smoked like a chimney, short dyed reddish hair and curious teeth allignment.  I went in one day to get a hair of the dog and she said to me, "You hear about your friend Randy?"  Nope.


Fay took a drag of her cigarette.  "He went down.  He went down hard."  Oh.  Screwdriver, please.

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This made me think of a place in Newport I used to go to called the Snug Harbor.  Of course, it was torn down to build a giant cement lmixed use loft space, which makes no sense.  It was across from The Cannery and it stunk of sewage, dried beer, and 40-plus years of lawless smoking. 

 

It had been there for years and was a real treasure.  John Wayne used to go there and wasn't bothered.  A real salty dog place.  There was a bartender there named "Harry," who used to be a boxer.  He had these big, saggy eyes and would mumble.  Bill came in later and tried to fit in by giving a select few patrons free drinks all the time.  Let's just say he was a terrific bartender.

 

There was another bartender that hated anyone under 50.  He would yell at us if we used the f-word or anything stronger than 'darn.'  "We don't use that kinda of language in here, mister!"

 

The toilet flooded over a few times a night.  The juke box still played singles and if the bartenders didn't like the song ("Brown Eyed Girl" for the 100th time that night, for example), then a master volume switch would quiet the volume.

My spot was usually leaning against the jukebox.  If i didn't like a song -- there's always some a-hole who puts on a god awful selfish jukebox song...typically country -- then I would kick the side of the juke which skipped the record to the end and the next selection would come on.  Bill the bartender would look up, see it was me and carry on like nothing happened.

 

On the other side of the bar was a bumper pool table.  To gain favor from the, er, doorman named Jon Jon (I called him Crap Crap), you would ask Jon Jon for advice as to where to hit the pool ball.  He'd point to a spot on the side of the table without saying a word, like he was some all-knowing pool table god.  He had a pony tail.

 

The drinks were very strong.  The most popular was the screwdriver, also known as the Snug-driver.  If you had just one, you couldn't do anything the next day except go back to the Snug.

 

If someone dared call the Snug on the phone, the bartenders usually grabbed the receiver and for some reason they would smack it on the bar twice before saying "Snug."  Not that the person on the end could hear anything.

 

On Friday and Saturday nights, when the UCI reyn spooner crowd showed up, there were at least two fights each night.  They usually ended up in the street outside, so those in the know never parked in front.  It was a sucker's parking space.

 

There was one female bartender.  Her name was Fay, and she looked like a Fay.  Smoked like a chimney, short dyed reddish hair and curious teeth allignment.  I went in one day to get a hair of the dog and she said to me, "You hear about your friend Randy?"  Nope.

Fay took a drag of her cigarette.  "He went down.  He went down hard."  Oh.  Screwdriver, please.

Sounds a lot like my AI, DR... a select few of us drink freely as supplemental bouncers and music critics.  We have CMT tho (country music tuesday).  NEVER park in front of the bar...

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As is Silky Sullivan's?  Cool place, laid back just have to be careful driving home since it's by a cop station.  I like going anywhere laid back that isn't so loud with music and/or talking that you can actually talk to the people you're with.  This seems to rule out most the bars in downtown HB or Newport that I went to in my 20's. 

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I'm kind of a back-yard, family room, kitchen, garage/driveway type drinker, but I also like hammering a few pitchers of Guinness at Silky's.  They have really good wings there.

One of the bartenders at Silky's is a bartender at the club level of the stadium.

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As is Silky Sullivan's?  Cool place, laid back just have to be careful driving home since it's by a cop station.  I like going anywhere laid back that isn't so loud with music and/or talking that you can actually talk to the people you're with.  This seems to rule out most the bars in downtown HB or Newport that I went to in my 20's. 

 

Yes, Silky Sullivan's in FV.  Definitely a laid-back place, no pretentious bullshit.  You can watch the game, eat wings, drink beer, and the prices are good.

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Yes, Silky Sullivan's in FV.  Definitely a laid-back place, no pretentious bullshit.  You can watch the game, eat wings, drink beer, and the prices are good.

 

I like that place too. A few years ago, my girlfriend and I used to go in there every Sunday. The other customer's are cool and so is the staff. Good times.

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