There's something oddly comforting about a dive bar. My friend and I hit our local dive bar all the time, not for the cheap beer (we're Sprite people, thank you very much) but for the pool table and the people-watching. The bartenders all have the same look, part confidant, part therapist, part terrifying. You know their names, and they know yours, which means you can't leave without hearing about at least one dramatic thing that happened last week.
If you, too, frequent your local dive bar, you probably know the regulars by heart. There's also the guy who claims he almost made it to the big leagues, the woman who's been "just visiting" for the past 12 years, and the couple that may or may not be breaking up mid-argument over a basket of mozzarella sticks.
The lighting is dim enough to make everyone look better, the barstools wobble like they're on their last legs, and the wall decor is definitely older than you. And that's the beauty of it; dive bars never change, and that's exactly why we keep coming back.
