Some have peanuts on the floor. Some are barely lit. Some are hidden. Some are secret. Some you wouldn't want to be caught dead in. Some you might actually end up dead in.

They are dive bars, and they are said to be dying out in Los Angeles. Personally, I find that impossible to believe given the very nature of drinking and bars. Bars were invented for the common man. They were made to be open to everyone, a place where rich and poor alike could belly-up to the bar and throw back a few beers and talk about whatever they wanted. The puzzling thing is that bars which resemble that description have come to be called dives, as if there is something inherently wrong with them. I whole-heartedly disagree.

Somewhere along the line, people got the idea that an obnoxiously loud, insanely over-priced, hopelessly packed room was the ideal place to go to drink strangely colored low-carb cocktails mixed by angry bartenders dressed in all black. Fortunately, there is still a large contingent of beer and whisky drinking bar patrons in Los Angeles, and those good people are keeping the so-called dive bar scene relevant.

I know I'm in the minority, but I like bars that are bars, not clubs. I like to be able to have a conversation without yelling over house music, or conversely to be able to sit in relative quiet with my beer and just relax. I like to get an actual seat at the bar and feel the padding underneath my arms as opposed to squatting awkwardly on a low pseudo-couch and pretending that I like it because it's Euro-Japanese or something. I like friendly bartenders, career servers whose real professions are as conversationalists and therapists. I like looking across the bar and seeing some shady characters, guys who probably shouldn't be drinking at all but it's the only way they can figure to start fights with strangers. And sometimes I just want a cheap beer of questionable taste and quality.

These bars still exist in Los Angeles. My friends in Venice turned me onto the Town House where they serve 24 oz. cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon and Milwaukee's Best, also known as PBR and The Beast, respectfully. It's the kind of place that only takes cash and the bartenders only take shots. The juke box is quiet, too. The floors are a little dirty, the customers a little older, but it just has a little more character. Thankfully, that hasn't been lost from all bars yet. The only thing that does seem to have truly disappeared in L.A. is a cheap drink. Even a place like the Town House will run you 5 or 6 bucks a drink.

Next week, I'll take a look at some more dives that I've been lucky to come upon. And if you know a good one, please let me know and I'll check it out.

Town House
52 Windward Ave.
Venice, CA 90291
(310)392-4040

By Chris Boyd