Rudy's, New York, NY

Ah, Rudy's Bar and Grill, Hell's Kitchen, New York City. I will never forget you. I'll never forget your smoky perfume, your free hot dog charm, your juke box that played random 80's music along with old jazz. Your hell hound at the front door -James. James was a chubby, leather clad, bouncer that sat in a chair outside Rudy's. His sat near the plastic, welcoming, six-foot tall pig statue. No matter how many times I came to Rudy's, James would sneer at me

as I walked past him.

This place is a dive as in, you dive in and you spill out stained with smoke and drunk on pitchers of watery Miller Lite. My drinking buddy at Rudy's once told me, "there was a period

when the Victoria Secrets models would come in here at 3:00 in the morning."

As my four years in New York flew by, Rudy's lost its edge. They added two TVs, took out the foot rail so when you sat on a bar stool -your feet just sort of dangled down, they cleaned it up,

and brought more lighting in.

But in the day, no dive was better. Often I would stop in on Thursday nights at around 11:00. Rudy's wasn't so packed on Thursdays. I liked going to Rudy's because the crowd was so eclectic. It didn't cater to any specific person or group. It was comfortable the way a worn out

couch in your basement is comfortable. I miss it.

Thanks, wonderful guest blogger #3, Joey Amdahl.