I’ve written about this dump before. When I visit my family in Cleveland, I always make a point to stop in for a few beers at The Suburban Inn on Bagley Road. It’s a cinder block building in a parking lot right next to a Shell gas station. “Bar” is too nice a name for it. “Bar” implies warmth and hospitality. Like on Cheers. If you’re in an establishment that only serves the kind of vodka that will give you a pounding headache and the floor is sticky and the air smells like stale beer, what would you call that? Purgatory? I like it.
When you open the door you’re hit with a massive billow of cigarette smoke—it’s like walking into a gas chamber—and a warning. The State of Ohio has outlawed smoking in bars but the proprietors of the Suburban Inn don’t give a damn what the State of Ohio says. A hand lettered sign cautions:
I always thought the sign was a joke amongst the employees. The Law couldn’t possibly give a shit about a dive like The Suburban Inn? Could they? On the contrary. I read in an Ohio newspaper that the The Suburban Inn has amassed a whopping $49,000 in fines for smoking violations that they steadfastly refuse to pay. The most in Ohio! You go girl!
The law doesn’t know the half of it. Do you guys know what these are? They’re called pull tabs. This is the front.
Good thing The Man doesn’t read my blog, eh?