Where, oh where do I start with this one? I want so badly to tell you about my new friend Sam, McCoy’s doorman. I want to tell you all about his past alcoholism, how he looks just like Seth Rogan, and mimic for you his incredibly funny one-liners. But I can’t. If I did, it would ruin next week’s Trouble with DeRosa column, and we all know how much you five people who have no life look forward to page four of the Weekly Volcano.

 

Instead I will tell you how I offered Sam my lip gloss; he politely declined, and then offered to show us where he worked: McCoy’s Tavern.

 

I’m pretty sure Charlie the bartender couldn’t have given a heaping, steamy shit about us, except we were accompanied by Sam, McCoy’s seven-foot bohemian doorman. There really is no ignoring Sam, so we got preferential PBR treatment from Charlie. 

 

We walked outside with Sam to the smoking area while he corrupted his lungs, and bravely endured the stare-downs from other faithful McCoy patrons. Sam showed us how to sneak in the back gate after being kicked out, but the fact that neither Bandito or I owned a skateboard, well it kind of made it a mute process. Oddly, I was the only one in the populated smoking area who had a lighter. And I don’t even smoke.

 

Wobbly barstools, musty stenches, and dingy, poster-covered black walls —ahhhh it was dive bar heaven. Add in some back-room random worn-out couches, cheap ass beer on draft, Charlie the “I could give a shit” bartender, and you’ve got yourself a priceless afternoon within Oly’s dive-y-est of dive bars.

McCoy’s Tavern

418 4th Ave E., Olympia, WA 98501, 360.352.0696‎

 

Beer: Poured to the rim.

Food: I don’t even want to know.

 

Bar Exam Dive Grade: A+