Bar, er...beer joint review

Marie's Olde Towne Tavern

A beginning is a very delicate time--Irulan Corrino

So, naturally our first review of a bar is a beer joint with a proclivity for adding e's to words for the middle English effect. Classic. Marie's is located near the bus station, that approximation is all you really need to know. This place is an old Knoxville stalwart, having been part of the community for decades. Beer only, no draft...cans and bottles. Heineken is the top of the food chain there, and unlike trendy college fucks, the patrons here drink PBR and High Life because that is what they can afford. A small cash register sits near a notepad...that's how they run the drunkard's tab.

After the initial shock of the regulars at young(ish) professionals descending among them, an amazing thing happened...we were as accepted as they were, part of the gang. It was a pretty good feeling. King Randall, Mackey, Disco Dan and myself spent a few hours there getting to really mix it up with the regulars. Most look to be ephemeral characteratures, transitory relics of a bygone time...and they can drink. A metric shit ton, in fact. What meant to be a short time visit lasted most of the night. King Randall, after first being labeled as a Greyhound patron, quickly made introductions for the rest of us.

One thing that must be said about Marie's: Customer service is king. Being a regular at another establishment, we've been granted a wide berth there. Special treatment. Marie's staff, and I use the term loosely, pays close attention to your needs and will provide you with possibly the saltiest of popcorn right when you need it. They believe in the strange but ancient practice of reverse tipping, and mingle seemlessly among dart players and working folk who take the edge off of life's struggle one sip at a time.

If you really need proof this place is a product of a bygone era, check out the old school ashtray in the shitter. I mean, in today's nanny state smoking is a faux pas even here in Knoxvegas. Here, they still smoke like tramp steamers and apparently find the thought of throwing the butt in the crapper proper or the trash can is unacceptable.

The place has grown on us, gentle reader. We'll be back. Try it sometime if you find yourself dodging the usual denizens of Knoxville.