Last Resort Bar

i've been fascinated by poor Aileen Wuornos since long before i burst into tears during the roller skating scene in "Monster", so when vacationing in Daytona, i dosed my kids with NyQuil and Pay per View and set out to meet an old friend at the place Aileen, iconoclastic hipster, enjoyed her last PBR.  

when i finally found the place, i was too terrified to enter alone.  so i waited, trembling in the parking lot, for my friend, my biker bar liaison, with a Three Wolf Moon, *ahem* lower back tattoo, to join me.  (i shit you not.)  when she arrived, we embraced under the archway declaring The Last Resort the Home of Cold Beer and Killer Women, i bummed a Marlboro Light and we ducked inside where my wildest expectations were immediately fulfilled.  

i told the bartender, i'd like a Crown and coke and he shot back, "so would i, honey."  only beer and...did he mention wine?  i don't recall, but i doubt it.  my friend ordered a Coors Light and Big Al rustled me up a Lynchburg Lemonade.  it was clear that it had been a long time since anyone had asked about Aileen, but Big Al and the other lone patron were happy to regale us for over an hour with tales of their brush with infamy.  said that Tyria Moore didn't look a damn thing like Christina Ricci.  he gave me a bunch of misprinted stickers from their "Killer Hot Sauce" and i bought a souvenir bottle, thinking they could have used a more flattering photo of its namesake.  

unlike Wournos, i won't be back, but it made for a memorable afternoon.

This place is a pit. The owner could at least replace the disgusting bar stools. He is charging more for beer than everyone else in town during bike week.