Dirty Bar

My friend Claude was getting married to a lovely young lady he’d met at a club in Ocala called Members Only that caters primarily to men of the heterosexual persuasion. I had rented a Cadillac-​Buick for the occasion. To me a Cadillac-​Buick was something big enough to climb in and out of without getting a clubfoot or a withered arm. I was going to meet Claude’s best man JD Tripley, a football coach at a local academy and former Gator. I had met him a few times before during a variety of male bonding rituals.
The Dirty Bar was one of those establishments where you weren’t likely to find too many polo players. A few tables from the oilcloth family. Dark booths along two walls. A filling station clock. A cigarette machine, stage for the band and wood floor for the Fred and Gingers, and a long bar with swivel stools and Naugahyde padding for the elbows of customers who needed to think it over awhile longer before they went home to the cuss fight.
The tunes on the jukebox indicated that music began with Hank Williams Jr. and ended with Patsy Cline, but today’s anthem was Gary P. Nunn singing, «If You Don’t Believe I Love You Honey, Just Ask My Wife.» Much of what you needed to know about the ambiance of the Dirty Bar could be found in the black lettering on the white sweatshirt worn by the convivial lady behind the bar. I didn’t normally take the time to contemplate such things, but this one asked to be studied more closely. In black lettering, the message smartly said:
GO %&*# YOURSELF, IN CASE I FORGOT TO MENTION IT EARLIER
I asked the bartender her name. She said she’d like for it to be Drew Barrymore, but she’d had to settle for Kelly Sue Beatty. She had creamy skin, a sharp little nose, shrewd eyes of swimming-​pool blue, and American hair. Amber waves of grain. A lady somewhere in her early forties who’d seen two husbands run off with go-​go dancers, a mobile home burn down, and a Ford Ranger wash away in a flood. But all that was purely a guess on my part, it had to do with the so-​what expression on her face.
Kelly Sue came around to see if we needed more whiskey, JD ordered another vodka and cranberry, his health drink, and then took the scenic route to the men’s room by way of Too Tight and Too Cheap, who had come from a hard day of separating hens from roosters at the chicken plant in Waldo. You couldn’t help but look at Too Cheap like you would a wild animal on the Discovery Channel. With a margarita in one hand, Marlboro in the other, and a look in her eyes that just said she was there to ruin your life. She was laughing heartily now at JD’s jokes, thought it was hilarious when my friend asked her what kind of sexual harassment she liked best. Too Tight lit up when JD asked her what color car she wanted.
I don’t remember much more about that evening. Claude and the rest of the wedding party showed up pretty soon thereafter and ordered 6 rounds of shots in succession. They didn’t really agree with the 3 Irish whiskeys I’d already gotten on the outside of but I guess I was in no worse condition than everybody else when the sheriff came around with a couple of deputies to load us into the back of a squad car to take us back to JD’s house. They take pretty good care of their football coaches down here, made me glad JD didn’t coach some sissy sport like soccer.

Awesome. This place had a great band that played 70’s classics. There was a 4 dollar cover charge, but it was well worth it. As I looked around, I guess the average age of the people was around 50 or so. It was actually kind of fun watching a dude who looked like Crnl. Saunders dancing. There are two bad things: first they have smoking upstairs, and by the end of the evening I my clothes and my hair smelled like I had been trying to put out a brush fire. The second bad thing is they appear to have no food … I mean not even any frozen microwave potato skins or cheese sticks. It makes a long evening sitting there listening to a band, with nothing to eat. I mean, they could send a runner over to five guys and pick up burgers and fries. It would be worth it. I will still probably be back. I mean it is a great place to kick back, listen to some tunes, and enjoy a rather interesting floor show.

Its more for the older, zztop fan type of crowd. The liquor and wine had us sick!

Been there a few times. its one of the ONLY places in town that is not for young college crowds… The music is different each time but they are all great bands ! The bar is pretty crowded, long waits most of the time but they’re pretty friendly and once they know you it’s easy. Dancing is great fun there, people very cool no issues respectful of others etc. they close around 2 am and then there’s nothing else for miles n miles !! Gainesville is quiet after 2 am but Dirty’s is great fun

We were in Thornbroke on a Friday night and decided to stop by Dirty Bar. I had heard this place was primarly for the older demographic but it really serves all ages. This place has an awesome happy hour with 2−4−1 drinks and it is way bigger than it looks. The downstairs where the bar is is not smoking but the upstairs allows smoking so some of the smell comes down.
The venue has a stage for musical acts but didn’t have any when we were there. If you like dive bars I’d recommend coming here for a quite happy hour and some people watching.