Koyotee

If I described Salina to big city folks, they would probably imagine that all the bars in Salina are like Koyotee.

That is, they would imagine all the bars are of the a redneck/trailerpark variety.

Where the bartender is missing teeth and wearing a novelty t-shirt with a chart classifying different "types" of boobs such as "melons," "cones," and "cucumbers" (I've wondered who would ever wear a shirt like that--now I know).

Where when you sit down, an intoxicated woman says with slurred speech, "you should buy me a drink; it's mothers day," and then proceeds to order a drink, assuring the bartender that you've got it covered. She observes that she's old enough to be your mother.  Then she asks whether you've ever been with an older women, stressing the importance of experience.

Where most well drinks are only $2, and where non-well drinks aren't served at all.

Where the tables are plastic, and the walls decorated with flags layered on top of posters of hot Budweiser models and bootleg images of Wile E. Coyote.

Where the patio features cheap plastic lawn chairs and sits across from the grain elevator.  It exists for smokers, and as a place for yelling patrons to cool off.
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This is probably a one-star institution, but I honestly did have a good time at Koyotee.  Sort of.  I think.