by titty.tino
Rasputins (Sputies): 💀💀💀💀
My mother (UVM class of ‘90) shudders, recounting the slimy walls and remembering the inescapable feeling once entering. Even after the rumored ‘post-covid remodel’, these sentiments ring true. Today, the crumbly stone walls are dripping sludge more than ever and the floors are chronically sloshing with mystery liquids. The place smells paralyzingly like doodoo; you are bound to get pink-eye from the sheer amount of floating fecal particles. Once you cross the threshold of the slippery stairs, there is no guarantee of return. Immediately, you are swallowed by swathes of underaged/underdressed college tweens, gyrating to subpar remixes and spraying you with trash canCres and vodka crans. It’s a true challenge to keep track of your friends, and upon inevitably losing them, you won’t have cell service. A house of horrors, enter Sputies with grave caution, but more appropriately, avoid at all costs.
The OP: 💀💀
Who goes here? I’m convinced this place is full of undead souls stuck in purgatory. No matter the time of day, depressed-looking hipsters hang out the open garage-style windows. I don’t think they are able to leave. Worse, I’ve heard horrors of friends going, but never returning. I read too many Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark as a child to know not to mess with the paranormal–I advise that you do the same–stay. far. away.
Red Square: 💀💀💀
I’ll start with this: credit must be given where credit is due. I’ve had some fun nights at this popular establishment. But pay its frighteningly high cover charge ($10, really?) on the wrong night and you’ve sold your soul to the devil. Upon entering, you’re hit with a wave of aftershave and sweat. If you survive the long winding walk to one of the back rooms, you are lucky. There are many obstacles, namely, creepy men who jump up from their posts as you pass by. Yes, the single 35-year-old men love this place, because they get to look at you–mind your business, and they’ll also be minding your business. You’ve been their target since you walked in and they will continue to follow you around the whole night. Once, I told a man that I was uninterested SIX times, and he still watched me as I pretended to dance with one of my guy-friends (I’m gay!). Speaking of gay, this is not exactly a queer-friendly bar. Well, it’s not queer-unfriendly, but if you and your partner look anything like women, incel men will unabashedly watch you exist. Enter Red Square if you dare, but don’t be surprised when you get a scare!
Manhattan’s: 💀💀💀💀💀
I don’t have too much to say about this one. I’ve never been. “But titty.tino! How can you say it’s so scary if you haven’t even tried it out!” I don’t have to and I won’t. Here’s why. It’s teeming with the most frightening group of individuals: washed-up, middle-aged, UVM-alum, local business men who still want to feel young. Terrifying. Horrifying! In addition, there have been countless drugging incidents at this establishment, which is enough to keep me far, far away. Not to mention, there have been too many acts of gun and knife violence in/around this sleazy bar. Hard pass for me at this house of nightmares.
What Ale’s You? (Ale’s): 💀💀💀
Now this one has a similar crowd as Sputies. We’ve all been here when our Connecticut license said we were 23, but our Vermont one said we were merely 19. Overrun with student athletes and Greek Life, the hair on your neck stands straight up. Additionally, Ale’s is a death wish for shorter patrons, as they pack the place with so many bodies. The athletes loom so tall and thick that anyone under 5’5” is at risk of asphyxiation. The drinks are mediocre and the music is no better than putting my old iPod on shuffle. Unless you like flirting with the dark side, it’s not worth the trepidation.
Categories: around town, oct 31, titty.tino, Vol 27