Where's Rufus Sports Bar

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  Trash (noun): Worthless or discarded material or objects; refuse or rubbish. The Websters definition of trash, in my view, pretty much sums up what you'll find at Where's Rufus Sports Bar. In fact, I can think of several other colorful adjectives to describe this armpit of a bar:
  
  1) Cold
  2) Dirty
  3) Unsafe (possibly)
  4) Expensive
  5) Unkempt
  
  The Mrs. is from Tyler, so she's familiar with this "sports bar," but we've never ventured in. From Broadway Avenue, it looks attractive, as there are fire pits and TVs on an outside patio. This is where they lure you in, and where the voyage into the ghetto begins.
  
  Wifey and I enter after having the doorman swipe our ID. Then, you have to sign an authorization that gives them permission to swipe your ID, after the fact, I'd like to add. Once cleared, we grabbed two stools at the bar. The dirty (as in hair, and appearance) blonde, rolled her eyes, purposely (doing absolutely no work) waited about five minutes before greeting us with a "what can I get you two?" Since we had time to visually peruse through the taps, we had our minds made up. When we gave slobby blondie our choices, she retorts {hungover, or stoned demeanor} "our tapsisbroke, butwehave bottles." Yes, she really did speak with her words rolled together, as if it was a real struggle to pronunciate like a normal human being.
  
  Since their taps were broken, and their bottle beer selection sucked, we went with two Shiners. $8. For real? Eight f'n dollars for two domestics!? OK, whatever. We stayed for two more, just because it was entertaining watching the diverse group of patrons. Here's a setup:
  
  There was initially some DJ (DJ Gimp, I believe) who was spinning country straight off of his Mac. This brought in a bunch of low rent hicks, who ordered mainly bud light bottles. When DJ Gimp country boy, decided to call it a night, rap music began playing loudly throughout Where's Rufus. Like a flick of a switch, the eclipse came over us. The country boys went outside to the patio, and the thug crowd swarmed into the inside of the bar. Lots of pants sagging, and men with unlit  blunts in their hands.
  
  Twenty minutes into segregation, and the full blown eclipse, {wife clinging on to me out of fear of being shanked}, we tabbed out. On a side note, the bartender watched me the entire time I signed my credit card slip, including the filling in of my tip amount. Tacky, but I'd expect nothing less.  
  
  Disgustingly rude bartenders. Entertaining crowd, but never again. Just run. Seriously, just run!

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  Posted on 04.15.13 Scott B.

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  Good bar to watch sports in. Restrooms were much cleaner than the last time I was there several years ago. The outside patio has a covered area with TV's and gas-logs. The staff was friendly. The crowd is mainly folks in their 20's.

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  Posted on 09.20.11 Todd S.

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