Post by Deleted on Feb 3, 2014 22:23:54 GMT -8
Located not far from Xavier Academy and 4 or so "doors" down from The Blue Velvet, the "Cave" is but a dingy, dark and somewhat intimdating dive with bad advertising.
It is a bar for the working class, it’s popular with construction workers, bikers and underpaid city employees like garbage men. The owner, Horace Turnbull, stocks only beer and hard liquor. Bartles & James wouldn’t come with in 50 yards of this place. The Cave lives up to it’s name. One dirty, unlit sign hangs over the steps leading down into the basement entrance. A fifteen foot hallway leads back to the bar itself. Along the hallway at 2 foot intervals are a series of antique door knockers ranging from gargoyles to mermaids. There are no doors, just the door knockers.
A swinging door leads into the Cave itself. The basement room is roughly circular, with wooden rafters crisscrossing the ceiling. The underground location gives it a damp, dark appearance, and water drips from the ceiling in places. There are a few old fashioned tavern booths against the back wall. Seating is primarily tables scattered around the open floor.
Patrons come here almost any hour. The Cave is a quiet spot, and the customers prefer it this way. The bar is where motorcycle gangs go when they want to do some serious drinking without being annoyed by yuppies or college kids. Unsurprisingly, the men are typical macho-types. If they are impressed by the physical appearance of the newcomer, they will offer him a seat, buy him a drink and ask him “how ‘bout dem Bears!?” If the newcomer appears puny or intellectual, they will gaze contemptuously or ignore the person. Women are treated courteously enough- even by the bikers. The regulars may buy an attractive woman a drink simply to keep her in the bar.
The only break in the general disdain of “highbrows” is a chess board at one end of the bar. Horace is an avid chess player and is more than willing to accept challenges. Several of the regulars also are avid chess players. The Cave is one of the only places they can play a game without ruining their image. If a newcomer challenges Horace to a match there will be heavy betting. A large crowd will gather around, turning the game into something not unlike a fifteen-round Las Vegas Boxing Match.
Two regular bartenders are Fred and Maureen. Fred is a man in his late 40s, while Maureen is a short blond in her late 30s. Horace is rarely out front except when playing chess. The easiest way to get in touch with him is to talk to Fred or Maureen and he will show up within the hour.
Two doors lead off the Cave’s main room. One goes to the sole bathroom, the other to a hallway with three doors. From here one door gives entrance to Horace’s office, one of a supply closet and one to a large, empty stock room. This room also contains some cooking facilities, a large conference table, and a bookcase full of reference materials.
It is a bar for the working class, it’s popular with construction workers, bikers and underpaid city employees like garbage men. The owner, Horace Turnbull, stocks only beer and hard liquor. Bartles & James wouldn’t come with in 50 yards of this place. The Cave lives up to it’s name. One dirty, unlit sign hangs over the steps leading down into the basement entrance. A fifteen foot hallway leads back to the bar itself. Along the hallway at 2 foot intervals are a series of antique door knockers ranging from gargoyles to mermaids. There are no doors, just the door knockers.
A swinging door leads into the Cave itself. The basement room is roughly circular, with wooden rafters crisscrossing the ceiling. The underground location gives it a damp, dark appearance, and water drips from the ceiling in places. There are a few old fashioned tavern booths against the back wall. Seating is primarily tables scattered around the open floor.
Patrons come here almost any hour. The Cave is a quiet spot, and the customers prefer it this way. The bar is where motorcycle gangs go when they want to do some serious drinking without being annoyed by yuppies or college kids. Unsurprisingly, the men are typical macho-types. If they are impressed by the physical appearance of the newcomer, they will offer him a seat, buy him a drink and ask him “how ‘bout dem Bears!?” If the newcomer appears puny or intellectual, they will gaze contemptuously or ignore the person. Women are treated courteously enough- even by the bikers. The regulars may buy an attractive woman a drink simply to keep her in the bar.
The only break in the general disdain of “highbrows” is a chess board at one end of the bar. Horace is an avid chess player and is more than willing to accept challenges. Several of the regulars also are avid chess players. The Cave is one of the only places they can play a game without ruining their image. If a newcomer challenges Horace to a match there will be heavy betting. A large crowd will gather around, turning the game into something not unlike a fifteen-round Las Vegas Boxing Match.
Two regular bartenders are Fred and Maureen. Fred is a man in his late 40s, while Maureen is a short blond in her late 30s. Horace is rarely out front except when playing chess. The easiest way to get in touch with him is to talk to Fred or Maureen and he will show up within the hour.
Two doors lead off the Cave’s main room. One goes to the sole bathroom, the other to a hallway with three doors. From here one door gives entrance to Horace’s office, one of a supply closet and one to a large, empty stock room. This room also contains some cooking facilities, a large conference table, and a bookcase full of reference materials.