Saints Pub and Patio

That this place even has cover is laughable, notwithstanding the ridiculous and sexist notion that men should have to pay more. As if the place were shoulder-to-shoulder with Maxim supermodels or something. Give me a break.

Charging more for cover for men is sexist. I am mad I have to pay more to get into a bar that is twenty percent capacity and they tell me it is justified by "two dollar anything." I get to the bar and order a Redbull and vodka, they ask for four dollars. What a rip, no wonder their dead.

Saints Pub is a standard sports bar with a little swagger that amps it up to more than just A-OK. Complete with standard oak furnishings, high top tables and terrible acoustics, Saints isn't the place you would take your first date, unless you didn't want to talk to her, or you both enjoy yelling...or sports...or something peculiar like that.

But if you're a star football/baseball/any-sort-of-ball player, and you've got a hefty entourage scrambling after you, Saints has the perfect off-shoot, semi-private room to accomodate your lovable groupies...and the staff will gladly swing together a few high top tables near the enclave such that you may lounge on a leather-ish sofa, eat properly and imbibe in whatever beer/wine/cheap well drink you choose.

Of noteworthy importance, the bartenders and waitstaff scurry around like frantic birds, collecting orders, dishes and numerous requests from patrons. Though the kitchen staff seems to lag a bit, the standard bar fare is delicious - and there's no judgment to ordering sweet potato fries (and maybe a couple more orders of the same) and a side of just queso to quell your grumbling stomach.