Scott L.

Do you like being alone? I mean do you really like being alone? Do you like being alone, in a slump-blockish strip mall, next to a medical marijuana dispensary, an upholstery shop, and Kenney D's Italian beef? Well then, my friend, day bartending at The Scottish Stein, is for you. When I first came into this joint I didn't know what to expect. So many ghosts to feel out and remember- The Stein occupies the same spot that was then the now purely mythological Unicorn Sports Bar. The Unicorn...ugh, I shiver. I can smell the bowling alley carpet and drunk uncle wood paneling. The old timey sots loved the "Corn." Phantoms with red-veined noses and shaky hands...oh the humanity. And another dive-y ghost has life in this dim cavern. Can you smell the remains of the ol' Wooden Bucket Saloon? You sure the fact can! The owner be the same. I can't say anything bad about that- but I do know the Bucket was rough at night. If you wanted to get your ass kicked or kick some ass in a joint with no quick exit, then the Bucket was your Thunderdome. So that being said, I guess The Scottish Stein is the misshapen, half-formed love baby of these two old dives...confused and bumbling around in east Tucson. I was going to pan this joint because aside from the Scottish flag and Pict blue exterior, there is wee about this dive that's Scottish. No McEwans 90 shilling, no showcase of single malts, no haggis or Scotch Eggs, no Bay City Rollers, no Celtic F.C., no cabers, kilts, or ceilidh (pronounced kaylay). No "So I Married an Axe Murderer" on continuos loop. Not even a single fahkin' photo of Rod Stewart or William Wallace!!! Whale oil beef hooked! (Say it out loud a couple times) But I can't hate on this bar. I've been in twice during the day...and I kinda like it. The bartenders are cool, the prices are reasonable (when they have cash in the register and call booze on the shelves), and the other straggling Ghillie Dhus that wander in have all been interesting and friendly. They do have some good beer on tap and the service is good. I mean cause you're it, pretty much. The bartenders say that the Stein is a cool place to hang out at night, and that it gets kinda hoppin'. Well not for this old man. Night time is bed time. And nighttime belongs to the Black Donald. So cheers to ya Scottish Stein. "Here's to us! Who's like us? Damned few, an they're all dead! Slaïntè!"