Standing stiff and sturdy, north of twenty-five feet in the air, is a welcoming reminder that Hometown Bar and Grill is still open for business. With a sign so loud and proud, it’s impossible to miss the “$2 drafts; 60 cent wing” special accompanying every Thursday from 5-7p.m. Red, charcoal brick is cemented around the perimeter of the bar and grill, while thick black borders of plastic outline the windows.

 

Walking through the door, a wave of rhythm pulsates through each ear, ignited by soft spins on the turntables by the nightly DJ. A mix of sing-alongable pop hits and country music clappers serenades the patrons into a divulgence of dance on the bar’s enormous dance floor. Passing by the doors of the kitchen, a whiff of buffalo wings and burger grease whispers into the nostrils of powerless patrons. A mahogany finished bar, wrapping 360 degrees around the room, stands as a spectacle of sporting events and liquor bottles. Littered along the walls are blotches of neon illuminating dozens of domestic draft logos.

 

Four visitors leak outside to form a genus of cigarette smokers; absent from the establishment are ashtrays. Smiles flood the area as a group of friends begin a game of darts. Unfortunately, there’s a casualty, as the burly gentleman of the group reveals a bent and broken dart. “I’ll throw it on your tab, Dolph Lundgren,” the witty bartender says. The two were high school prom dates. The relaxed and laugh inducing aura created by Hometown and its patrons falls nothing short of a Memorial Day backyard barbecue--arriving with friends and family, famished and parched, and leaving with satisfied stomachs, a looser belt buckle, and exhausted jaw muscles.