Now if only the Muslim cab drivers would recuse themselves from bitching about our booze. —Beth Hawkins
The corner of Washington and Broadway may be the sketchiest in Minneapolis. The Northside locale combines the cheer of a homeless pub crawl with the ambience of a freeway on-ramp.
An anchor attraction was Irv's Bar, a saloon storied for its three-for-one drink specials and generously iced urine trough. But the last closing time came to Irv's this New Year's Eve, ending some 50 years of operation.
"Oh man, this is sad," said one Irv's patron. "I had the honor of enjoying Irv's three-fer-ones one Friday morning two years ago. Doors opened at 8:00, and the place was packed by 8:30. Later, a dude at the bar tried to sell me crack. When I politely declined, he asked if I'd seen his socks."
Alas, now those socks may never be recovered.
With Irv's gone, drinkers on their way to I-94 will have nowhere to boost their blood-alcohol content. Except for BJ's, where the women are topless and the liquor is bottomless. Or Johnny A's 200 Club, where one bouncer recently went down on a murder rap, and where famous one-legged gangster Johnny "Hopalong" Edwards has been known to hang out. Or Stand Up Franks, which does not, contrary to legend, exchange sobriety tokens for a free drink. Or the Jug liquor store, where—well, you get the idea. —Michael Tortorello