The Dive Bomber: Aunt Rosalie and the Nuge at Black Derby Saloon

I expected Black Derby to be a hipster dive, what with the car parked in front of me with the Flying Spaghetti Monster bumper sticker and the Nirvana song that was blasting when I entered the bar. It was about as hipster as Aunt Rosalie's house.

That's not a bad thing at all. I'll take cigarette smoke that can be smelled from outside, the social awkwardness of wondering if the kind old lady knows what the Nuge is wailing about and watching Hitler stories on the TV over hipness any day.

As I was leaving, two young men passed me on their way into the saloon. I hung around for a few minutes and watched as they walked in, turned around and walked out. Either they couldn't handle it, or they were looking for their great-aunt in the wrong bar.

Robin Wheeler writes the blog Poppy Mom and is a regular contributor to Gut Check. She also has a strange attraction to drinking establishments with jars of pickled -- or possibly fossilized -- eggs. She reports on these dives every Thursday.