Bill Ashes Lounge

Well I picked up my Charlie Card (good for 5 years) and so what did I want to do with it first?  Hit the Beach!  As in the locally famous (or famously derided) Revere Beach.

And what goes better after time at the beach than a beeya?  Spotting this place across the Boulevard, I had to appreciate a place where regulars were hanging out eating, and old gambler types were drinking mid-afternoon glasses of tequila straight-up.  Like a damn fool I asked if they had "any wheat beers, like Blue Moon"  ha ha, no but a couple Amstels did the trick.  Tasted a lot better than in some damp cafe in Amsterdam, I'll tell you that much.  

The bar-mistress was very friendly to me, this is not a hole, it is a cool place to hang out for an hour or two.  A must-stop for anyone who wants a true sense of Boston outside of the college-tech-fusion crowd.

The place has been the same since i was 30 and i am now sixty --the patrons all look the same although they do change --although i suspect some of the people never have ever gone home. yes something comforting about a place you went to when you were 30 years younger and its THE SAME. Great rock music .dont expect the place to be beautiful but its not so bad. and to the guy who put all the women down ---maybe you might like a little bar in boston called jaques.

This place IS the Star Wars bar.  The line should read: Bill Ash's Lounge - you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.  Jason not only hit this place on the head, he clubbed it to death like a baby seal.  It's very hit or miss: I've walked out w/out even finishing my beer on occasion.  Last time I was in here I saw some fifty-something lady (Revere's equivilant of a cougar that hangs out at the Bristol Bar at the Four Seasons) wearing what can only be described as a sweater dress that clearly displayed her flaps and cracks: she was sitting on one of the bar stools and as we entered she stood up and silently announced to us that she was totally innocent of any underwear - my friends 22 yr old brother (who is blind in one eye and wished, outloud, that he was completely blind) was HORRIFIED and I calmly assured him that is what a REAL woman looks like.  I know the bartender from high school (I think he drank at my house on several occasions while mom and pops were in Hawaii or the DR, who can keep track) and I know the Keno girl (I went to school with her brother) - in fact, everyone in this place is someone from the neighborhood, and sometimes it's girls that were once hot in the summer of 89, but now you look at them and say, "wow, she really let herself go."  There's always a scary cadre of shady characters playing the poker machines, my brother's ex girlfriend among them (she's the one that looks like Marianne Faithful, as in, Marianne Faithful NOW). One night (back in 99) my buddy's wife, who literally had to be dragged into this place, even though she's from Beachmont (last time she sipped cocktails in here she was still a debutante) got into a fistfight w/another dude from the neighborhoods girlfriend (she had the gall to think my bud's wife was trying to take her "man") and in the course of the action my friend's wife's shoe went flying across the bar and when the dust had settled she screeched, "Get my Prada shoe!"  Yes, that was Prada, not Parade, probably the first and last time anything designed, endorsed or stamped by Muiccia Prada has ever graced the hallowed flooring of the Ash Can (or Bill Asses, or the Ash Tray, or the Billage - like Bellagio, don't you know - take your pick). Anywho, a local barfly, a real headliner on the beach circuit,  followed the broad out back (on the sneak) and finished her off in the parking lot, smoked a cigarette, and returned to her beer, her white sweater splattered w/blood, dirt and whatever else she picked up rolling on the ground. Place gets pretty jammed when they have decent bands.  Plenty of biker broads, heavy metal chicks, girls with tatts, girls that had babies w/their boyfriends brother while he was in jail, girls that were once men, etc.  These girls all seem to be named either Stacy or Michelle, too. The pizza from Hells Kitchen next door (I named it that, dammit, even though it's called something else officially) is good and the staff there are characters in their own right. The reason why I don't give this place one star is because I'm so full of shit, I'd go in here again for a drink. I've never used the bathroom in here, but always pissed out in the parking lot (which doubles as a smash-up derby, so park on the beach, if you can). Anyway, no one uses the bathrooms in here to actually take a piss, but if you want to do a bump of coke, walk this way!