Dirty Harry's

The crowd is just an amazing mix of everything you find in Mesa. From barely legal to barely breathing, you'll find it at Rooster's. Handlebar moustaches, big beer bellies, tattoos. Definitely no guidos in the crowd here, though, as the Affliction and Ed Hardy loving crowd doesn't know this place exists.

Nice little dive bar with great service, Harry Luge and his band playing a mix of country, rock, and whatever else comes up when they're not out touring, a couple pool tables and now, a good patio to throw the smokers on. Decent prices on the drinks and always a good supply of Malibu :)

The only guy candy I've ever encountered is Harry. Double yummy on the ears... and eyes. Girls, not that I like to share, but visit this place and you'll be hooked...

One word of advice... when you leave this place, make sure that you use your blinker, don't make any wide left or right turns, as there is usually a motorcycle cop just waiting to nail someone's drunk ass.

We like to get rowdy, and this is place never dissapoints.. strong drinks, hot girls, live music.. definitely our fave bar on the east side.

So I was listening to some shit-hot country on soma.fm's Boot Liquor station earlier tonight, and thinking "Damn, I need to go see some live country music."

Decided to motor on down to Rooster's just to check it out.  From what I understand, this is one of the few places left in the Phoenix megalopolis where you can still catch live country music on a regular basis.  

An acquaintance of mine had of course told me the obligatory scare stories beforehand, "Oh, if you're not riding a Harley, you're going to get knifed, it's all Biker gangs, Aryan nations, blah blah blah."

Well that all turned out to be bullshit, at least tonight.  Of the three bikes parked in front of the main entrance, one was a KLR 650, the other was a Japanese make V-Twin, and I think the other bike was a Harley.

Stepping into a bar for the first time is always interesting, that will be the first and last "first time stepping into that particular bar" for the rest of your life.  And my immediate impression was that I had stepped into a bar twice as wide, similar in size to Gilley's from the movie Urban Cowboy.  Only to find that a big wall of mirrors on the east side of the bar merely gave that illusion.  It is really more of a narrow bar, really disorienting for a moment after I locked on to the true dimensions.

The crowd was a friendly mix, biker dudes dancing with Latinas, older white guys in white tube socks, polo shirts and tennis shoes, MILF cougars on the prowl, regular people in their 20s/30s, a few scary dudes reminiscent of Charles Bukowski, only not as ugly and more buff.

I grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a Dos Equis Lager Especial, for $4.00, and settled in to do some people watching.  I came here for live music, but the band was taking a break, for what seemed like forever.  Meanwhile cougars, MILFS, sweet Mesa honeys and a few biker hags with their junk hanging over their beltlines were out boogie-ing out on the dance floor to some country pop.

After about my 2nd beer, the band fired up, and I had made aquaintances with a group of 20 something guys that were out whooping it up and preying upon the little bunnies like they were bears, as prescribed in the movie "Swingers".  

Brett and Kelly were bros, they used the "We're twin bros" device to enhance their tactical advantage whilst cougar baiting.  They were doing alright for a while, but later decided to pull out.  At one point a round of Jeager and Red bull shooters was ordered, and it was mandatory that I had one along with them.  Domestic beers on Friday and Saturday nights are $3, so if you want to keep it cheap you can do so.

The house band was pretty decent.   I met one of the guitar players in the parking lot on the way in, he told me that they had a stand in drummer that night, so they were "just fucking around" but all of them could play, and every one of them was serving up hot country licks the rest of the night.  The stage is a couple of feet high, with a dance floor that is approx 20x30 feet.

A mind-fuck was inflicted when the guy who was DJ'ing, stepped up on stage, grabbed a guitar with a big ole five inch wide three amigos style gaucho strap, and starting belting out songs with the band.  He was a great singer, good country voice.  Everyone in the band could sing, but he was easily the best singer in the band.  

So you're probably wondering about the the mind-fuck part.  That came from the fact that he was wearing a fitted hat backwards, pulled down over the eyebrows low, t-shirt, dickies shorts, and skate shoes.  So you got this guy who looks like he just stepped off the Vans Warped tour, singing country.

Turns out he was the owner of the bar, and his name was Harry.  I commented on the appearance discrepancy, he laughed and told me that  "I grew up on this shit".  Cool guy, we bullshitted for a minute, he informed me that Friday/Saturday nights were about the same crowd, Thursday night was by far the best night though.  Fifty cent beers!  Too bad I have to work Thursday nights.

So I took off around half past midnight, after the band set down their instruments after putting in a good hour long set.   Made a pit stop before I left, and was surprised to find a restroom that was much nicer than I would have expected for a "road-house".  

I plan on coming back, had a great time here, met some good people, and it's relatively close to my fortified compound.