Take a wrecking ball to it.

It’s a bloody cold day in hell when the Nutty Irishman gives a bar with the name of “The Erin Pub” a rating of one.  But this piece of shite definitely gets the single digit.  Actually I found the rating came very easy as I walked out of the place and raised my hand. 

The P-town lads were out on the mainline when the opportunity to go the Erin Pub presented itself.  I drove by the placed many times but I never had the chance to check it out. 

So as the story goes, the P-town lads turn to the Erin Pub with hopes of getting the Irish out.  The closest thing that the Erin Pub has to Ireland is that it’s a step lower than the hell that those murdering northern bombing bastards are headed to.

As I stepped into the bar and had a quick look at the place, “college bar” came screaming into my mind.  The place looked like a real dump with poor lighting, ugly paneling, crappy floor, etc.  But I can deal with a crappy bar, I have done it many times before—I’ve even done redneck.  Pushing my way through large, fat, college boys whose size relates them to the high school football player who could not make it in college and just let themselves go to hell, I eventually made it to the bar.  Without even looking at the taps, I order Guinness and the barkeep comes back with Guinness cans and plastic cups.  Guinness cans and plastic cups.  Guinness cans and plastic cups.  Guinness cans and plastic cups.  Am I the only bugger here that sees something wrong?  With a name like the bloody Erin Pub, this place should have three taps of Guinness, not bloody Guinness cans and plastic cups!  For that alone the Erin Pub does not deserve its name.

The pub itself is a hellhole.  The bar and paneled walls have names and frat graffiti carved into them.  People are walking on the seats of the booths, and thank God we did have plastic cups for the Guinness because I do not know it I’d want to drink out of a glass.  The cliquish college crowd does nothing to boost moral as testosterone filled large, fat, ex-football player, college assholes strut around marking their territory in front of the clueless chicks who need a good dose of reality.

What pisses me the most off about this place is that the Erin Pub tries to push itself off as an Irish pub.  Having the four provinces on the wall and a bumper sticker that says Pogue Mahoune  does not make a place Irish.  The trashiness of the place is a disgrace to all Irish.  Granted Irish like their drink, but there is more to the Irish drinking culture than just the alcohol and places like the Erin Pub does no justice to the people that it tries to represent.

- As reviewed by The Nutty Irishman

His other reviews include: The Elephant and Castle, Oscar's Tavern, The Samson Street Oyster House,  Maggie O'Neal's, Barnaby's, Shampoo, Rio, The Great American Pub, The Boat House & Valley Forge Brewing Company.

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