Hahaǃ Back in the mid 90s that was my neighborhood bar. I lived about a block away. The roof is a bunch of tarps held down with bungee cords. Sunday nights it was Goat Carson’s BBQ, The Simpson and The X-Files. Great jukebox, good times.
John M. —
It’s rare that we get a confirmation of what appears to be a cultural oddity. I liked the image because it reminded me of a bar in the sticks of Ohio. 5 stools and a bench.
It’s bigger than it looks. IIRC, they have three or four tables in the front about 8 seats at the bar, four more tables on the side and in the back, a loo and a courtyard.
Also, it’s not rural, it’s about 4-5 blocks from Tulane in Uptown NO. As the 90s wore on, it became very trendy and lost some of its character.
In my younger years, I always found small dive bars more charming,
And sometimes more dangerous. Some buddies and I decided to stop in at The Hogs Breath some miles outside of Houston (not Clint Eastwood’s yuppie place in Carmel). Pickup trucks and Harleys were parked in the dirt outside, big boar’s head over the bar, bar stools were oak logs with carpet tacked on the tops. The eyeballs we got just for walking in spooked us even though it was mid-afternoon, but we stayed just long enough for one beer.
Tacky Raccoons 
Hahaǃ Back in the mid 90s that was my neighborhood bar. I lived about a block away. The roof is a bunch of tarps held down with bungee cords. Sunday nights it was Goat Carson’s BBQ, The Simpson and The X-Files. Great jukebox, good times.
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John M. —
It’s rare that we get a confirmation of what appears to be a cultural oddity. I liked the image because it reminded me of a bar in the sticks of Ohio. 5 stools and a bench.
LikeLike
It’s bigger than it looks. IIRC, they have three or four tables in the front about 8 seats at the bar, four more tables on the side and in the back, a loo and a courtyard.
Also, it’s not rural, it’s about 4-5 blocks from Tulane in Uptown NO. As the 90s wore on, it became very trendy and lost some of its character.
LikeLike
John M.–
In my younger years, I always found small dive bars more charming,
And sometimes more dangerous. Some buddies and I decided to stop in at The Hogs Breath some miles outside of Houston (not Clint Eastwood’s yuppie place in Carmel). Pickup trucks and Harleys were parked in the dirt outside, big boar’s head over the bar, bar stools were oak logs with carpet tacked on the tops. The eyeballs we got just for walking in spooked us even though it was mid-afternoon, but we stayed just long enough for one beer.
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