This originally appeared in Broke-Ass Stuart’s Guide to Living Cheaply in New York
The single most impressive thing about Dave’s Tavern is that every night one of the regulars gets 86’d. It must have been me and Paul’s lucky night because we saw two of them get the boot. The first one was this guy who was obsessed with one of the female bartenders. She was off work, having a drink and he was wasted and trying to get her to understand some point he was making. After a few minutes he yelled, “WHY WON’T YOU JUST TALK TO ME!” at which point the massive bouncer (who looked like The Rock) came over and told him that if he didn’t calm down, he’d have to leave. Drunk guy apologized to both of them, and two minutes later started in again with, “I JUST WANT TO TALK TO YOU!”
You could tell that drunk guy and the bouncer knew each other because the bouncer sighed loudly before asking him outside. They talked for a bit and when drunk guy finally calmed down, the bouncer let him go back in. Drunkie immediately bolted back to the barstool and began screaming at the girl, “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU COLD BITCH WHY WOULD YOU TREAT ME LIKE THAT?” At this the bouncer snaps. He grabs drunkie off the barstool, picks him up like he’s a rag doll, and lays drunkie down, on his back, on the sidewalk outside, while yelling at him to, “GO THE FUCK HOME!”(please note that Paul and I are absolutely dying of laughter from all this). When roid-rage finally lets drunkie up, drunkie starts mouthing off to him (we couldn’t hear what he was saying), and roid-rage snaps again. He shoves drunkie really hard and drunkie’s feet lift into the air, his back hits the ground, and his head knocks into a parked cab (we heard the thump from inside the bar). Drunkie gets up, rubs his head and slinks off (at this point the off work bartender had already dismissed the incident completely and had absconded with a different guy into what appeared to be a janitor’s closet. Seriously.).
By now the girl who was actually working had bought me and Paul each a beer because we were having such a good time. She was the one who told us that shit like this happens all the time here. Just then, the bouncer comes back in after letting himself cool off for a bit, and another regular had taken his shirt off and was waving it around his head to the beat the music. The bouncer was not in the mood for this shit, “OUT KYLE! GET OUT OF HERE! YOU’RE DONE TONIGHT!” (Paul and I are clinking beers by this point, giving each other high fives, and claiming this to be the best bar ever). Then, as Kyle was walking out the door, still shirtless, we saw the original drunkie standing outside, looking into the bar through the window, and crying. True story.
Oh wait you probably wanna know some info about this place, huh? The clientele is a mixture of geezers and hipsters, you can play Ms. Pacman, drink $3 PBRs, and throw the shells of free peanuts on the floor (this makes me feel like a rebel).
574 9th Ave. btw W 41st & 42nd Sts.