"I Love This Bar"

My "Amish" friend calls nearly everyone "Bub" . Although he is known as Buddy by his family, most of the people I worked with called him Bub. I just call him Roger. He loves bars. Actually he calls them pubs. In my years of travelling and working with him, we have sat at more than a couple of pubs and did a multitude of twelve once curls. One of his favorite places is Applebee's. where he prefers to set at the bar. Usually we will have 2-3 large beers (called Brutuses) on tap and then we order our meal. I have been in "Neighborhood Grills" with him from Maine to California and many places in between.

Roger continues his travels throughout the United States with Betsy, his 2004 silver Chevrolet Monte Carlo SS. He tells me if he sees an Applebees and Motel 6 at the same exit then that is where he will spend the night.

This is still a beer blog so I have decided to write about my favorite pubs./taverns/lounges/bars/beer joints/ice houses/dives/clubs/honky tonks/etc.

Comparing types of beer is like comparing apples to oranges. The same principle applies to bars as well. Some of the places I will be writing about are "true shit holes" while others are pretty nice and upscale. At first I had planned to write about only ten but as I began to make the list I realized the list would be larger. In my past scribblings I have written about a few of my favorite watering holes. Pardon me if I repeat.

Coon Ridge Lounge -Located on Louisiana Highway 191 two miles South of Zwolle, Louisiana.

My dad and I had been fishing all day long. I recall that I caught a seven pound bass on my very first "cast". It would be the only bass I would catch all day. We had filled up two large Igloo ice chests with white perch and the "one" bass. We had just landed our boat when it began to rain "cats and dogs". Because my father had drank more than enough beers, he allowed me (15 years old with only a learners permit) to drive the car (while pulling our boat). As it was getting dark I pulled out onto the Scenic Highway and headed towards our home in Shreveport. I had only been driving for about ten minutes when it began to rain even harder. I was entering into a curve in the road, when Dad began to shout, "Pull Over!" I pulled into the parking lot of what I later realized was a beer joint. My dad flew out of the car and ran up to the front door of the place. He began shouting "Tommy" " Tommy' and I followed after him saying "I am here Dad" But he kept shouting "Tommy". when he reached the front door I saw him charge a large "Mexican" looking man who was standing underneath the ledge to protect himself and the blonde he was with, from the rain. Once again he shouted "Tommy" and then ..... POW ! He hit the man. The man fell down and Dad just stood over the dazed man. I had never seen my father behave that way before. I was terrified. The blonde looked at me and said "Please mister, I am not his wife". About that time the man, Tommy Sepulvado, looked up at my Dad and said "T.W. ?" It seems that the two of them were best friends when they played basketball for the Zwolle High School Hawks. We sat at that bar for over an hour and I drank two or three beers as we waited for the rain to subside. It was the first bar that I ever actually ordered a beer at. They served it too. Looking back I realize that night in that bar is when I crossed over from boyhood to manhood. Twenty years later, my Dad and his new wife had a small "place" located on nearby Toledo Bend. I and the Prodigy had been visiting during the Christmas holidays. My step brother Russell was visiting as well. On Christmas night, he and I decided that we was going to do a Sabine Parish "Pub Crawl" . The first place that we visited was the same bar that my father and I had visited that rainy night so many years earlier. Nothing had changed. We walked in and stood at the bar. There was large woman with even larger blonde hair asking us what we wanted to drink. we both ordered a Bud. Since it was Christmas Day, Russell began making small talk with the bartender..."so...did you have a good Christmas?" "No" she replied. "We buried my son yesterday" I looked at her and said "Oh I am so sorry". ""How did he die" Russell inquired. Then she paused and said. "He was killed in a hunting accident, or so they say.....he was shot three times". I looked at Russell and whispered, "Let's get the fuck out of here". As we walked outside it was raining and I recalled my first time at that little beer joint.so many things had happened to me in the years between visits.

I would pass the Coon Ridge Lounge many times over the next several years but I never again went inside. The last I heard, It was finally abandoned and now it is a run down shack on the side of a two lane road lined with run down shacks.

Next Goodfellas, Laconia, New Hampshire

Wanna leave a tip for the band?

The Third