The Edge

If it were possible to give this dive less than one star, I would.  This place is where dank was defined.  If purgatory was a bar, this would be it.  I give you The EDGE, a not-so-quaint place to grab a drink - and a shiv, if you're not watching your back.  Where do I begin?
I was invited here solely to see a friend's band play.  Being the dedicated good friend I am, I willingly attended, expecting your regular town joint.  Upon approaching the front gateway, my best friend and I were getting eyed like steaks at a vegan conference.  We were not entirely wanted there, except by the lovely leather chaps wearing grandpas smoking outside,  but hey.  
After paying a 10 dollar cover charge, we entered the bar.  The decor was that of...well, how do I put it?  Remember that one friend in high school that had the parents that transformed their basement into a bar?  That was it.  Wood paneling, Christmas lights, tiki poles, et cetera.  We ordered two Bud Lights, which the bartendress insisted on putting into plastic cups, so it was ninety-percent foam.  That tasted good.  Did I mention they were also eight dollars a pop?  Yes, eight dollars for a DIY foam facial.  *cough*
Don't order a mixed drink from here...you will be sure to get juice mixed with ice, and that's it, really.  
As far as the bathrooms - and I can only speak for the women's - not only does the stall door to the one bathroom not close, but there are children's drawings and flower stickers plastered to the wall, and as for the john, well...let's just say hovering is a good technique to fine-tune if you plan to venture out here.  
All in all, from parking lot to bathroom, this place is like a walk through a David Lynch movie written by Stephen King.  If you have to visit here for a friend's band, make sure they sign a waiver first insisting to pay you back for losing those hours of your life.

Cheers!