Some bars you have to walk into with low expectations. More specifically, you have to walk into Union Pub with low expectations.
Upon entering, you'll notice that the owners have managed to somehow create an ambience that has all the coziness of some soulless bar you might find in a newly remodeled, Midwestern airport. Interesting choice.
God willing, you'll never have to set foot in this place, but if you get dragged there by some peripheral friend of some peripheral friend, the one consolation we can offer you is that they have cheap Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap. There’s also ample outdoor seating which would spare you the indignity of actually being inside the place. At least, till you have to take a wazzer.
Some quick calculations: When your body has absorbed the 0.007% of Pabst which has nutritional value and needs to empty out the excess, you'll probably find that the bathroom is about 620 degrees Kelvin and you'll walk out drenched in a sweat that's about 43% alcohol and covers 98% of your person.
Another drawback is the jukebox. We were forced to listen to the late 90's rock station that they had chosen to put on, and while it was fun for awhile to try to name the bands—Filter, Tonic, Seven Mary Three, Lifehouse—when that one Three Doors Down song came on , Rowdy let out a snarl and made for the jukebox... Within 30 seconds, he could be seen jabbing at the jukebox with his phalanges and cursing like a Chilean sailor (trust us, those are some swearing-assed marineros). The jukebox, you see, was malfunctioning and it took him the better part of 20 minutes to get anything out of it. By that time, the scowl on his face as he wandered back to the bar for more Pabst sent women and children fleeing for the exits.
After a another beer and some idle chit-chat, Rowdy calmed down and our group turned its attention to the ongoing harassment of the female employees occurring at the hands of a male co-worker. (for more on this story read Hurray for a Child). After instigating a brief altercation, we slid out the side door and walked east, still slightly awed by the out and out butt-suckiness of the place.
- Rowdy Chowder