The Old 76 Club - Brooktondale, NY

In Tompkins County, few bars have the mystique of the Old 76 Club.  Some people will tell you it is one of the creepiest bars you will ever go to.  One might take that into consideration if they may their approach to the bar via Buffalo Hill Rd. off Rt 79.  Buffalo Hill Rd. will instantly remind you of the movie Deliverance the further you venture from Rt. 79.   I myself have tried doing the drive alone to find the bar, but once the paved road disappears and you are working on nothing but dirt, I began to get scared and turned around fearing my car would break down and I would be made to squeal like a piggy.

I have know a couple of bartenders in town who have worked there.  There were both females and both of them somewhat petite.  My isolated suburban Connecticut background was probably getting the best of me as it routinely does.  However, I still wanted a partner for this venture ...just in case there really was a redneck gang rape in the cards for that evening.  I am a huge advocate of the buddy system.

After climbing up Buffalo Hill Rd. we finally happened upon the Old 76 Club.  This was the same day as our trip to the Lisle Inn, so we were decked out in our redneck regalia and knew we would blend in as best we could.

I feel like an idiot for not getting any pictures from the inside, but I am sure you get the idea of what we headed in strictly from this picture.  Yes, that IS the front door to an actual bar.  I probably didn't take any pictures inside from fear of being discovered.  Some people just don't like their pictures taken.  Some people like hiding out in shady, dark bars.  I was definitely not going to start snapping off pictures with my phone and have people question what the hell I was doing.

We had a couple Coors Lights inside.  It seemed to be the house beer.  It was actually pretty spacious inside and even had a small kitchen.  I can't think of a reason why I wouldn't go back now that my fears of rape have subsided.  Next time I'll try to get some better pictures.

The Lisle Inn - Lisle, NY

So, one day Tommy and I were doing something redneck and moronic one day to aid in the regression our loving, upper middle class upbringings and make our parents proud.....as usual.   On this day, it was drive my old beater pick-up to Whitney Point, NY and pick up a motorcycle.  A motorcycle that didn't even run, but I got a great deal on it!  Besides, not much more can be more redneck-y

For years on my journeys between Ithaca, NY and Cheshire, CT I have passed the Lisle Inn and yearned to go in and see what it is all about.  I was sure it had to be amazing inside.  Not amazing like Caesar's Palace or The Louvre, but amazing as in "Holy Shit! This place actually exists."

As you can see, Tommy was dressed perfect for the occassion.  You never really want to stroll into a "local" bar dressed in your Sunday best or whatever the rest of us wear Monday through Friday.  That would only get you beat up and/or stared at.....or even worse.....DENIED SERVICE.  I didn't opt for homemade tank top, but I did have my own trucker hat on and was the one driving the beat up green 1993 Ford F-150 with the 40yr old non-running motorcycle in the back.  We were pretty sure we had safe passage.

The interior was just as I had imagined.  Many apologies for the dark pictures, but I was only armed with my shitty camera-phone.  I don't have an iPhone or a fancy Droid.  Its a crappy Samsung.  You can't really walk into a place like this looking like you are a Ansel Adams or something anyway.  That's an easy way to get beat up.  You have to make due with what you have.  However, I can't really blame the phone for the lighting here.  This is pretty much spot on.

There were about 4 guys sitting at the bar, a rather obese female bartender in her 30's behind the bar, and about enough teeth to put together about 3 full sets all together.  The walls were decorated with bit of crap nostalgia from generations back.  I was pretty sure most of the people in here started coming because their fathers used to come here and I was also pretty sure they clocked in more hours on those stools than they did for a paycheck the rest of the week.

The bartender didn't so much as crack a smile or offer a hello when we walked in.  I couldn't tell if she looked at us as intruders of some sort or was just a mean ol' bitch who hated everything.  Both seemed pretty likely.  At the end of the day, she pulled us a couple of bottles of nice, cold Miller Lite and we were happy to sit there drinking them.

FINALLY, I can say I went to the Lisle Inn.