The 100 Best Dive Bars in the United States

Vaughan's is a Bywater dive where the Mardi Gras tinsel never comes down and Thursday nights mean a brass band that doesn't start until 10:30. The red beans and rice are free, which makes it easier to stay on the dance floor with whichever neighborhood regular grabs your hand first. The owners live nearby and have run the place for decades, so the community events and Pride tea dances feel more like hosting than programming.

The name comes from an era when locals climbed to the roof to watch atomic test blasts light up the Nevada sky. This old-school bar on Fremont Street has been around forever, and the Rat Pack drank here after their shows, which sets the tone pretty neatly. The red-tinted interior leans into Atomic Age kitsch, sour beers are a specialty, and the patio out back is where late nights tend to end up.

Poison Girl is a dark, narrow Montrose dive on Westheimer where personal space is treated as a rumor. The bourbon list is deep, but plenty of people at the bar are just ordering Lone Star and nodding at it. Everyone eventually drifts out to the backyard patio, where the evening opens up a little. Dress for sweat and spilled beer, and plan on a cheap tab and a bathroom with a past.

EZ's is a Heights dive bar that has somehow acquired a very good bottle list, so you can pair a pool game and a chili dog with a pour of champagne, or stay loyal to the beer that calls itself the champagne of beers. The jukebox swings from George Strait to DJ Screw without apology. It's suspiciously clean for a dive, but give it time, this is Houston.

The patio seating is made from repurposed toilets and road signs, which tells you everything about the vibe before you've ordered a drink. Double Wide is a Deep Ellum dive bar with a trailer park aesthetic, cheap and stiff pours, and a music venue across the patio hosting bands and DJs on most nights. Wildsam named it one of the 50 most essential bars in America, which somehow feels both surprising and completely correct.

Las Rosas is a dive bar on NW 7th Ave that closed for a few years, then reopened looking like nobody had touched it, which is the correct amount of renovation. It's all cheap shots, a back alley where cigarettes change hands between strangers, and a Saturday-night guitar solo at a volume your ears will file a complaint about. It's the opposite of South Beach, with no velvet rope and no one's cousin running the list. Closing time is roughly 5am.

Red lights, pool tables, a game room, and flatbreads until 2 a.m.: The Little Woody refuses to be just one kind of place, and Arcadia has loved it for years because of that. It's a dive bar with cocktail lounge bones, where dart nights blur into dancing and the Gun Shy Sour keeps the bourbon crowd happy. Weekend nights draw a younger crowd who treat the arcade games as warmly as the drinks.

A tiki bar so small it was once a violin-repair shop, which tells you everything about the square footage and nothing about the ambition. Three generations of the same family have been pouring Mai Tais under the thatched canopy on Sunset since the sixties, and they do not serve beer or wine, so don't ask. Modern tiki bars tend to look like this place photoshopped. The original is still doing it straight.

Muddy Waters and B.B. King both played this no-frills blues bar near Chinatown, which tells you something about the room. Live music runs every night of the week, and between sets the crowd shoots pool and orders pizza to soak up the local craft beer. The seasonal Halloween and Christmas pop-ups have become their own draw, which is a funny fate for a place with that kind of history, but the bar handles both versions of itself with ease.

Grand Prize is a two-story dive where the interior is blacked out so thoroughly that the neon is mostly there to help you read the drink menu. Happy hour offers a "Happy Meal," which is a beer and a shot, and the pool tables are good for losing to a stranger. The kitchen rotates through bar food, birria tacos one week and chili-cheese dogs the next, and the terrace is where you go to confirm the sun still exists.

Voodoo Queen Daiquiri Dive in the East End is a dive bar that also contains an arcade, a po'boy counter, and eight frozen drink machines churning like a laundromat for neon. Pool and air hockey keep the hands busy, and the menu runs to fried shrimp, hush puppies, and tater tots under roast beef. Come in jeans, split a flaming tiki boat with whoever you trust most, and expect to leave with a very green tongue.

The stripper pole is decorative, full stop. That's the first thing to know about this Cedars bar, the second being that management wears suits while you eat a roller-grill hot dog next to a cigarette machine. It's dark and a little flirty, with pool and darts keeping things grounded. The dirty martini, made with fresh-pressed olive juice and an anchovy-stuffed olive, does a lot of heavy lifting for a place that also sells boxed candy.

The tequila and mezcal list at this Deep Ellum bar is long enough to constitute a philosophical commitment. Ruins leans hard into Latin culture, with original artwork on the walls and cocktails that come with actual folklore attached. The Limbo Room out back hosts live music in close quarters. It reads like a dive bar that got serious about agave spirits without losing the plot.

The taco truck parked out front sets the tone before you even get inside. Charlie's is an old-school gay bar and dance hall on Camelback with a big outdoor patio, bleacher seating, two bars, and a dance floor that earns its own reputation after midnight on weekends. The calendar runs from drag nights and karaoke to Latin and country two-stepping, so the crowd varies wildly depending on when you show up, which is most of the fun.

A honky-tonk dive bar on the east side of Phoenix where the lineup might be line dancing one night and back-to-back rockabilly the next. The bar menu runs wings, burgers, and nachos, there's a daily food special, and happy hour runs weekday afternoons. Sports play on multiple screens for the crowd that isn't there for the boot-scootin'. An old-school institution that closed for a stretch and came back, which says something about how much the neighborhood wanted it back.

A hanging mobile about Phoenix's infamous trunk murderess sets the tone before you've even ordered a drink. Valley Bar is a basement dive, reached through an alley off Central Avenue that will make you question your life choices right up until you hit the stairs and descend into genuinely good energy. Cheap beers, cocktails named after Arizona politicians, skeeball, shuffleboard, and live DJs on weekends round out a room that has no interest in taking itself seriously.

Yucca Tap Room is an old-school dive bar and live music venue where cheap drinks and a no-fuss atmosphere have kept generations of Tempe regulars coming back. The punk shows are a fixture, and moshers in Halloween costumes remain a perfectly normal Tuesday-in-October situation. Half the space now belongs to Electric Bat Arcade, a pinball room that on some nights draws a bigger crowd than the bar itself.

No televisions anywhere, which tells you everything about the clientele. Swift is an Irish pub in NoHo named for the author of Gulliver's Travels, and the room looks like it's been quietly absorbing conversation since forever: long winding bar, exposed brick, reclaimed church pews, barstools worn in just right. Creative types fill it looking for somewhere to talk without shouting over a game. Civilised is the word.

The sign above the door reads "Getting Vegas Drunk Since 1962," and the bar delivers on that promise without much fuss. Dino's is a neon-free dive near the Arts District where drinks are cheap and the crowd skews toward people who own at least one ska-related t-shirt. Thursday through Saturday after ten, karaoke takes over the tiny stage and things get appropriately messy. Celebrities have been known to slip in for a song, which is very on-brand for a city like this.

Graffiti and stickers cover every surface, dollar bills hang from the ceiling, and the smell of day-old bacon grease meets you at the door. Double Down is a dive bar in the Fruit Loop that's been hosting punk shows and burlesque nights since forever, drawing tattooed regulars and older locals who never look up from the video poker machines. Order a PBR, order an Ass Juice shot, and lower your expectations to CBGB levels accordingly.

Ernie's Boondock is a dive bar tucked below Up-Down in East Nashville, and it commits to the role with pool tables, dollar bills stuck to the walls, and a chain of Underberg hanging by the register. There's no cocktail menu, so order a gin and tonic or a tequila shot and accept the taxidermy's silent verdict from the red leather booths. Someone will mangle "Benny And The Jets" nearby, and you may join in.

A miniature wrestling ring doubles as the karaoke stage, which tells you everything about the Lariat Bar's priorities. This White Center dive is floor-to-ceiling WWE memorabilia with an actual craft cocktail menu, a combination that shouldn't work as well as it does. The nonalcoholic drinks are listed under "Kayfabe," a wrestling term for keeping the fiction alive, which is either the nerdiest menu label in Seattle or the most honest one.

Melrose is a basement dive bar where the entertainment is built in: pool, ping pong, foosball, darts, and shuffleboard, so nobody is ever forced into conversation. It has survived floods, an era of indoor smoking, and a brief closing, and it came back with a light spitshine and most of the old character. Drinks are local beer and basic liquor, the popcorn is free, and dress code is whatever you wore to work.

Taxidermy, graffitied walls, mannequins, shelves of old shoes, and a trippy dome with bean bag chairs on the second floor: Notsuoh is less a dive bar and more a three-story cabinet of curiosities that also happens to serve drinks. The art is strange, the vibe is stranger, and the whole place reads like a dare Houston issues to anyone who thinks Austin has a monopoly on weird. An old-school Main Street institution that earns every square foot.

The walls at this Deep Ellum dive bar are covered floor to ceiling in years of pen-and-marker graffiti, and the house policy is to add your own. Adair's Saloon runs on outlaw country and live music most nights, with the honky-tonk crowd and the boot-scooters sharing space without much negotiation. The kitchen stays open until nearly two in the morning, which is exactly when a bar burger tastes best.

The Venn diagram of bar and restaurant has Angry Dog planted right in the overlap, and nobody seems to mind. Cold beer, a game on, chili cheese dogs, burgers, and salads that have no business being this good for a place that smells like fried onions. Close enough to the American Airlines Center and Deep Ellum that it fills up fast on event nights, but regular enough that it works on a Tuesday with nothing going on.

Oak Cliff locals have been calling it "Barb's" for decades, which tells you everything about what kind of place this is. A low-key dive bar with a retro-cool vibe, it runs karaoke on Thursdays and Sundays and burlesque on the third Wednesday of every month, so there's always a reason the room is full. Between sets, the jukebox swings from disco to hip-hop without apology. Your bartender probably drinks here on their nights off.

The "Be Kind, Unwind" sign sets the tone at this neighborhood bar just outside Deep Ellum, built from near-scratch inside the bones of the old Starlight Lounge. It's a no-frills spot with DJ nights, music videos, and karaoke keeping things lively. The frozen cherry limeade with vodka is the move, though an Old Fashioned made with Garrison Brothers Single Barrel is there when you feel like being about it.

Dollar bills papering the walls floor to ceiling, Christmas lights above, and a stage that gets a rock band most nights of the week: Chopper John's is a dive bar that knows exactly what it is. The black-and-red room off Indian School Road draws regulars who look like they were designed to match the decor. Pool tables, a patio for smokers, and baseball on the TV fill in the gaps between sets.

Andes chocolate mints come with the tab, which sets the tone pretty well for this bar in the Ross Ave corridor. The whole room reads like a grandmother's parlor, elegant and faintly shabby, carpet included, paying loose homage to an old Dallas club of the same name. The drinks lean pricey and the crowd leans comfortable with that. A warm crab dip circulates if anyone gets hungry enough to order off the bites menu.

The glowing green facade on Dyer Street means your ride-share driver already knows the address. Inside, it's a bass-heavy bar where SMU students fill most of the floor and the dancing starts before anyone asks. Bar food runs better than the usual, and Tuesday open mic nights pull in live music, slam poetry, and stand-up, in case you came with something to prove or just enough drinks to think you do.