As I crept into the Downtown Pub, wild-eyed gazes were fixated on a bubbly bartender flipping coins with her massive breasts. Clearly a talent best utilized here. The party seemed to have commenced without me. By this time it was nearly 10pm and the six or seven customers appeared to have been enjoying themselves for the last few hours. Ordering a pitcher of Yuengling, I scanned the bar for any recognizable faces. None. So, I meandered my way to the other side of the barrier that separates the bar stools from the two pool tables with my $9.50 pitcher in tow.
Making myself comfortable at the modest black squared tables, the short heavy breasted barkeep approached with her way too revealing outfit for someone of her age. She boldly dropped a sandwich sized Ziploc bag of ice into the beer and with a gentle wink she seductively said, “Here you go honey.” Standard practice at these establishments when they notice a miserable hapless drunk drinking a pitcher by his lonesome.
Over by the computerized, touchscreen casino games, I detected a peculiar figure lurking in the corner. Something seemed amiss. The man was pushing maybe four feet with his elevated black boots. Dressed in leather and denim, he had on a bandana to control his long, filthy unkempt hair. By the looks of the impressive handlebar mustache he wields, a motorcycle must be parked out front. Stumbling toward the bathroom, you could hear the clunk of the deadbolt locking behind him.
Now, there are only two reasons someone would lock themselves in. The first is the most obvious… Taking a dump. The second is to indulge in some variety of narcotic. If you have ever been in a dive bar bathroom, then you would know that most would avoid the toilet short of dumping out in their pants. After about five minutes, the tiny biker staggered out with eyes have shut. No doubt at all what he was up to. This is ordinary and happens often in most places. As long as you’re not blinded by ignorance of course.
The most amusing event of the night came when the tiny man undertook the apparently arduous task of putting on his jet black trench coat. He was halfway there and awkwardly searching for the left sleeve when the rest of the bar finally noticed his struggle. Swaying side to side, uncoordinated stumbles, he managed to slip into the elongated coat. This dressing endeavor took him longer to complete than his time spent locked up in the bathroom.
There is no one under the age of forty here. Most college students will usually flock to a lame ass bar that’s promoting a ladies night in hopes that they can coax a misfortune innocent woman into their “Too Fast Too Furious” Mitsubishi. Maybe a stop at the local Abercrombie and Fitch for a latte would be in order.
But those places won’t have that recurring character with some variety of randomized rant selected seconds before entering the bar.
“I’m the most hated man in Boca!” Sonny exclaims in his ruffled Bronx accent.
This spherical gentleman runs the Downtown Pub with an iron fist. If you’re lucky, you might catch him yelling about his hatred of cheap scoundrels and tales of tossing unsavory inebriates to the street by neck collar and waistline, as well as, baseball bat beatings on cellular phones.
“They don’t call me bat-man for nothing” he informs with a wide grin.
The 53 year old Bronx native moved to south Florida in 1986. Sonny acquired the Downtown Pub in 2000 from one of his customers while he was operating and distributing vending machines down here.
By the time I finished a few rounds of Ms. Pac Man, I noticed my beer appeared to be watered down. Upon further inspection, I discovered a minute puncture in the Ziploc bag. One must proceed with caution and be vigilant to maintain the integrity of their alcoholic beverage.
This place is never too crowded or over packed. Its a simple bar that allows smoking and is located next to a pizza place and a 7-11. Anyone that ever hangs out at a bar that doesn’t serve food and is there for more than a few hours, knows that those two places can be quite useful on the late-night.
Wednesday and Saturday is free pool all day. There is a happy hour from 4pm to 7pm which is only $1 off. And it has the “In The Business” (ITB) discount from 11pm to close.
Compared to other adjacent pubs and bars, the Downtown Pub is slightly more expensive. An unfortunate consequence of not possessing a real extensive client base. To my soon-to-be millions of followers… Just go there and play a game of Ms. Pac Man and have a cold beer. Don’t be a jerkface.
Bud Heavy- $8.50
Bud Light- $8.50
Miller Light- $8.50
Bottled brew– $4/domestic $5-5.50/ import
Domestic Bucket– $15
Purely a wine and beer establishment, the Downtown Pub in Boca Raton should be considered the epitome of dive bars in the tri-county area. It is equipped with all the essential components of the typical backdoor bar: Two non-regulation size pool tables with split cues. Smoking inside. A dartboard. Touch-Tunes jukebox. Nine televisions in every conceivable position throughout the bar. And, of course, a Ms. Pac Man machine for $.25 per game.
I used to frequent this bar on a regular basis in my glorious younger years. The patronage and staff may have changed, but the entertainment remains the same. Its comforting to enter a barroom and be accosted with constant mockery and half-congenial greetings from regulars you would only see at that bar. Just the normal banter one would encounter when drunkards assemble in a dark simplified atmosphere.
It might cost a little more, but the Downtown Pub is definitely worth going to for a night.
The state of the toilets are as reasonable as it’ll get here. Not completely filthy, but no where near suitably clean.
3.5/5 Dirty Mugs with a $19 tab.
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