Food & Drink » Boozehound

Sam's: Not Our Club


When a wide-pupiled, widely grinning jovial gent in his mid-20s swooped down on our table delivering the night's best pick up line ("Hi, my bladder is really full. Wanna dance?"), just after the new boyfriend of a friend's very intoxicated ex-girlfriend tried to pick a fight, but long before the cocktail waitress—whose piss poor attitude was enough to keep us from ever returning—snipped at one of us for ordering shots from the bartender, we realized that Sam's Place is the kind of bar that makes you feel good about yourself just because you're likely to be one of the few in the joint who's worked a full eight-hour day (except for the two hard-working kick-ass bartenders).

Sure, there's pool and shuffleboard, and as we inadvertently discovered, there are Patsy Cline karaoke crooners aplenty. And the room is packed full of heads covered in everything from cowboy hats to visors to ballcaps. From the looks of a table tent, they sell cleverly named appetizers like chicken cubes and beef bits (congrats on the alliteration, but neither do anything positive for my appetite) among a list of bar standard moz stix, nachos and gizzards.

Personally, I'm soured on Sam's—not because of its strip mall address or crowd of gleeful patrons with many years of hard drinking under their belts. It may be the kind of place where a gal can sing the Steve Miller Band loud and proud, but with plenty of dough in my wallet earmarked for such nightlife outings, I'll be sure to trade it in an establishment where the waitstaff has more respect for a table full of restaurant biz customers.

Sam's Place, 3395 N. Five Mile Rd., 376-0074