Pub Vignettes #14
Episode #14: dives in the desert (Far West Texas)
You guys got your IDs? Ah shit, these are out of town ones, where’s the birthdate on here? Ah man, I don’t actually give a fuck. Jen hands back our driving licences and marches off. Couple of beers and seats at the bar You guys done any shots yet? Ronnie makes the best Kamikaze in El Paso, we hear. What’s in it? I don’t fuckin’ know guy, just drink it. Jen’s having one. Ronnie’s already seen his off. Neon lights and the scent of menace. Cold Mexican lager neutralises Ronnie’s hard pouring. Trucker hatted blokes shoot pool, hoping to catch the eye of the group of girls who’ve crossed from Juarez. Sorry lads, they’re here for the Kamikazes.
Graham’s Corner, 5959 N Mesa St, El Paso, TX 79912, United States
Dive bars next to bus stations are a special breed. Those a hundred metres from the Mexican border, even more so. Saying there’s a Dallas Cowboys theme in here is underselling it. Caps, posters, neon bar signs, helmets, stitched emblems on leather banquettes, the whole nine yards. In spite of How ‘bout them Cowboys? plastered everywhere, not a word of English is spoken. Labourers, pensioners, and wideboys wearing sunglasses indoors line the bar. Litre bottles of purposefully shit lager for four bucks are the order of the day. Some poured into half pint glasses with ice and lemon syrup, others sprinkled with salt, chugged directly from the bottle, and chased with a bite of lime. One dollar for three plays on the jukebox. We head out into the West Texan sun, leaving the caballeros swaying to the sound of sixties jazz.
The Jockey, 418 S Santa Fe St, El Paso, TX 79901, United States
If any of you can tell me the westernmost oasis in Egypt, you’re all drinking for free. Professor Dumpster (Adam, to his mum) holds court in his crumbling roadside casa, battle-scarred by generations of sandstorms and hard drinking folk looking to get lost. We’ve caught him on an admin day before closing up and heading to the Libyan border for the third time in eighteen months, lucky really. Cold cans of Lone Star cut through the desert heat. No such luck for the knackered pool table baking in the blazing sun. A forklift grunts in the background, laying concrete slabs bought on the cheap from a nearby Meta data centre. Next year that’ll be the chapel. Who wouldn’t want to get married behind a dive bar in Valentine, Texas?
Valentine Texas Bar, 450 California Ave, Valentine, TX 79854, United States
Pub Vignettes is a monthly(ish) collection of impressions of the world’s more interesting drinking spots.
For those who’ve followed along for more than a decade via the now-retired Beermack site, welcome back. For those newer to this parish, welcome.