Panic

Love this bar!
Beer bust on Sundays! $ 6 pint then a quarter each after that!
$ 1 beers on Monday!!! And cheap Jaeger on Thursdays!!!

So this place is the diviest of all dive bars. And you know what? I can appreciate a good dive bar. Bottled beers were $ 1 (hello!) the bartender was friendly. There was a chihuahua running around the bar which would normally weird me out, but it added a nice small town charm to the place. There were several computers set up so that people could facebook while at the bar. Ok, that’s a little weird. But maybe it’s an «Internet Dive Bar». Maybe this is a new genre of bar and Lincoln, NE may be on to something. The only thing I know is that I had fun, and if I lived in Lincoln, I’d be back!

While the scrolling bar on the cash register declared this joint my «HOMO away from Home,» I’m probably going to disagree. I’ve been to The Panic twice and would have to say its really not very homey. My first visit was right at the beginning of the semester, I had been on East Campus studying and biked over on a Friday night around nine for a stiff vodka drink. I ended up having to lock my bike to the lamp post, as I couldn’t locate a bike rack. I know now that’s common and no big deal, but I was annoyed as hell about it then.
Enter the Panic: I was advised that this was the gay dive bar of Lincoln, but had been warned about it being cruisy. Knowing quite well how to hold my own, and thinking hell, maybe I could get a drink out of it, i entered fearlessly. While the space itself was dark and a little on the rundown side– well maybe not rundown just disheveled– it didn’t have that je né sais quoi that makes a dive bar, well divey. It was just mainly sad. In addition to two bar tenders there were three other people inside: a couple of Nebraska Gays playing pool and a lesbians sitting at a computer on the bar surfing Facebook. I took a seat at the bar, after about four minutes one of the bartenders approached me and took my order. There was no small talk and I got the impression there was very little interest in actually taking my order. I found this odd for a gay bar, especially a small town gay bar. The drink was good though, but its hard to screw up a vodka tonic. I left after finishing my cocktail, when i realized that this place wasn’t going to get any more exciting or any less sad.
Renamed the Palace of Sadness: My second visit to the Panic was with one of my dear lesbian friends. Also brand new to Lincoln from a more urban local, she had heard that the Palace of Sadness was a lezbo hang out and was interested in checking it out, despite my renaming the venue. So after dinner on a Saturday night we hopped on our bikes and made the short trek over. This time there were more people there, thankfully. We plop down at the bar and immediately are served. I’m feeling much better about this visit. After a short bit, the bartender starts making small talk with us and while its still dark and sad and most of the clientele seems, well, dark and sad, we are enjoying ourselves. I order a second drink and my friend and i head to the patio outside because I want a smoke. This was not a good idea. The outside area was really cute, the kind of place to spend a warm evening with friends. However, upon arriving outside we were greeted by a very, very drunk chubby gay who looked like he stepped straight out of 1994. We find a table and try to ignore said obnoxious one, however he keeps talking very loudly, referring to by friend as a bitch and saying something along the line of «go get me a drink bitch, cause I’m princess.» Now mind you, this kid is sitting with a group of his friends who are just letting him talk like to two strangers. Also, the bartender comes out and hears him talking like that and says nothing. Upon finishing my cigarette, my friend and I decide to leave.
Now, I know us gays can get pretty lippy when we are drinking, but isn’t that what friends are for? To help us tone that shit down? Apparently not. And when a patron is being abusive to other patrons, shouldn’t the barhelp say something? So, think twice before heading over to the Palace of Sadness. I’m not saying I will never return, but I haven’t been back in three months. I’m sure it is someone’s «HOMO away from home,» but for now, its not mine.