The Office Lounge

There are such things as good dive bars. This, sadly, doesn't fall into that category.

Loud, smoky, and not especially inexpensive enough ($2.25 Miller Lite bottle) to compensate for the aesthetic failures abundantly displayed, the longevity of the establishment is a testament to the sparsity of options for bars in Milton...and certainly not this far out of the demographic focal point of the Milton/Pace corridor.

I hesitate to describe the crowd at 2:30 in the afternoon on a weekday, when the vast majority of productive citizens (excluding myself, of course) are normally toiling in the salt mines or otherwise engaged in civilized behavior.  Yet, I have to mention that this place was populated by unattractive, noisy, and stumbling drunk cousin-humpers.  Hayseeds and rednecks, that is.  I have no problems with white trash...hell, I grew up here and graduated from Milton High, not exactly a center of cosmopolitan elitism.  What I do dislike and assiduously avoid are obnoxious, raucous drunks that are mentally challenged by single-digit addition.

Maybe it was an atypical day and group of customers.  I may stop in again, just to see.  Everybody that irked me is probably a great and caring human in other contexts and circumstances, but my threshold for asshattery and efftards is low.  That threshold was breached within two minutes of my arrival at the Office Lounge.  Next time, it might be better to have several beers under my belt before I attempt this beer joint.

I would have dropped this down to one star if anybody had been obnoxious directly to me, but they weren't, opting instead to be generally obnoxious in a collective fashion.  It was one big yell-fest, with people bellowing at each other through the fetid miasma of smoke and stench, interspersed with random and ear-splitting squawks for no apparent reason.  It's not often you see--and not particularly attractive to observe--fuglies riding a bar stool like it was a mechanical bull and screaming like their liver was being excised from their body with a chain saw.  Matter of fact, I had never seen that before and I pray to the gods of hops and barley that I never have to witness it again.