This pre/post-party site for the DooDah Parade used to get cover charge-fearing traffic from the bar around the corner, until the front parking lot became a damn Container Store. The Old Town Pub now thrives by giving bands a cut of the drink profits, thus leading all of their fans and friends to seek out one of the two back alleys that protect god-fearing pedestrians from even glimpsing the only sign and entrance.

Hard alcohol is sadly lacking, and the daunting bottled beer selection is oft eschewed by 24ozPBR-favoring punks who might not have heard of any other beers because they’re stone frickin’ deaf from too many punk nights at the Old Town Pub.

A small courtyard allows for simultaneous smoking and drinking, while the inside’s mostly-bare brick walls and longhouse layout make it an aurally suicidal place to play drums. Most bands seem to approach this problem by making all the other instruments as loud as possible and questioning my manhood when I shut the courtyard door. (Tell ’em “Stubby” sent you!)

Not every night is loud, and the afternoons are a good time to watch the History Channel with a handful of dudes who lived it.

Spoiler alert: The Nazis lose.