The Worst Bar

Um, went to try their food but unfortunately they dont have food anymore. The skii ball was fun?

It's one thing for a place to call itself The Worst Bar in Columbus. It's another for it to nearly back that up, yet still sufficiently endear itself to eke out a three star, A-OK review.

Today saw Worst dealing with a group of nearly three dozen of us bidding the lovely Michelle K adieu. Despite such a heavy, unexpected confluence of business opportunities, the main bartender was mired in neurological quicksand.

Me: "Hey. Gin & tonic?"
Her: "(stare)...Yeah?"
Me: "Uh...yeah."

Turned out there was no well gin...vodka, then. The drink was packed with the spirit but arrived limeless (am I drinking water here? Where's my damn citrus??). Further inquiry led to the following drawn out attempt at conversation:

Me: "Could I get a couple limes?"
Her: "..."
Me, and still her: "..."

Mental hamsters stretched, got a drink, had a siesta, got randy, got busy, "forgot" to bring a condom, and birthed a few more hamsters, who held an emergency meeting which led to the realization there might be a lime in the back.

Her: "...yeah."

Fifteen minutes and one "Give me a moment, hun" later, I got my blessed wedge. Ah, sweet sweet citrus latifolia.

There were a few random things missing from the bar. Okay, many. Well gin. Sweet and sour. Cranberry. Sprite. Limes, temporarily. They ran out of quarters, for the love of all things happy and holy; Worst eventually started paying out in dimes. Paper towels. "Oh, hun, could you be a dear?" asked a female member of the staff as I walked toward the bathroom. I got the high honor of installing a spare roll of towels for her (and by "installing" I mean placing on top of the covered trash can), after pissing on a Florida gator and getting hand soap squirted at me by a near sideways yet still functional auto dispenser.

You know what? Despite all this comedic dysfunction, everyone seemed to have a good time. I had a good time, and the paper towel and lime kerfuffles amused the living shit out of me. Karaoke was a blast (compliments of Karaoke King), the drinks were cheap, and the regulars decided not to beat on any of us.

At Worst Bar, you just never know. This isn't a dive. It's a full-on deep sea adventure. But somehow you still float back to the surface and have a good swim despite the absurdity. And that deserves an A-OK.