8th Ave Tavern

There is a distinct smell when you enter 8^th Ave. Tavern. It smells like barrels of cheap whiskey were spilled and seeped through the carpet and into the very bones of the building. There is a great chance that once your enter this tavern, that you too will smell like cheap whiskey has seeped into your soul.
Behind the bar is a huge wheel-​o-​fortune that patrons can spin for drinks. However, where ever the wheel lands is what you have to drink. Most of the drinks I’ve never heard of, but whenever someone plonks down their money and goes for a spin, the entire bar turns to watch and cheer or jeer.
Last time I was in there, Tim, the bartender, made me a Surfer On Acid. I can’t remember the last time I had that shot, but I’m pretty sure it was college. Tim is the best bartender in town. He knows all his patrons by name and their favorite drink.
There doesn’t seem to be an off night at the Tavern. Thursday night is karaōke, and on various nights I’ve heard songs like: Break My Stride by Matthew Wilder, One by Metallica, and the obligatory Johnny Cash.
The only downsides to this place is that sometimes the cops like to cruise by, and the drunken idiocy from regulars can be pugnacious, but hey — isn’t gritty realness one of the reasons why we go to dive bars?