The D.C. area’s 12 best dive bars, ranked by experts (you!) (2024)

But the definition of a dive bar is, by nature, fluid and extremely personal. So when I invited readers to share their favorite local dive bars, and tell me why they considered that bar to be a dive, the answers varied but had many common qualities: dim lights, cheap drinks, friendly (if occasionally grouchy) staff, good music.

Even the operators of some of the best dive bars are conflicted about the term. “You don’t know if you love that people call it a dive bar or hate that they call it that,” says Quarry House Tavern owner Jackie Greenbaum. “It signals that it’s awful in a way, and doesn’t connote a good quality of food and drink.” But, she adds, “we own it. It’s a shorthand for a type of bar. … My first love is bars like this.”

“The Pug is a dive bar,” says Tony Tomelden, the owner of the 17-year-old H Street warhorse, “but I like the term ‘neighborhood spot’ better than ‘dive bar.’” A dive, in his view, attracts people from around the area, drawn by reputation, while “neighborhood bar” implies the primary goal is to serve people who live and work in the immediate vicinity. But he gets why people use the term: “We’re low-key, and we’re cheap, and we’re just a place where you can go and there’s very little pretension,” he says. “We try to be respectful and welcoming to everybody. But, I mean, we let everybody in, for better or for worse.”

And just about everybody, it seems, has strong feelings about the landscape of local dives. More than 1,400 readers weighed in, voting for their favorite and relaying — in colorful, gritty, surprisingly poignant detail — why it deserves to be crowned D.C.’s best dive bar.

Here are the results. Bottoms up.

This is what happens when one of D.C.’s top vinyl DJs turns a barbershop into a bar. A mural of D.C. musicians, from Duke Ellington to Harmon “Mask Man” Bethea, covers one wall. The jukebox is stacked with throwbacks by Link Wray, Bo Diddley and homegrown soul label Shrine. Stop in on a weekend and the DJs in the window might be spinning girl groups, Afrobeats or ’70s funk. If you’re lucky, it might be owner Paul “Soul Call Paul” Vivari himself. (Just know that many DJs have a “no requests” policy. Even if it’s your birthday.)

Showtime is a simple, one-room spot with booths and a small bar, where old movies — “Titanic,” “Batman Returns,” forgotten ’80s flicks — play on the TV, and bartenders don’t make co*cktails fancier than the Dreamsicle, which combines vanilla vodka and orange soda. Mark your calendars for Sunday night shows by Granny and the Boys, the beloved house funk band led by nonagenarian keyboard player Alice “Granny” Donahue.

Cost of a beer and a shot: $8 for the basic model, with your choice of canned beer and a rail shot, though there are more expensive liquor options. The bar is cash only.

State of the bathrooms: Cramped, covered with graffiti, but not trashed.

Why readers love it: “Showtime’s about the people: the bartenders, the regulars, the new folks who stop in every night. There’s always a good conversation, usually a bad movie on TV, and cold, inexpensive beers and combos. It’s the kind of spot you stop by for a quick drink after work and find yourself there hours later chatting with a stranger. My husband and I got our engagement photos taken here, with rail whiskey in our glasses and the wonderful Pat — a truly lovely guy who still remembers our first date there — behind the bar.” — Sarah McLeod

“You can do whatever you want in Showtime and no one will judge you. Dance your heart out. Or don’t. The drinks are cheap, and there’s always some crazy movie playing on the TV. The bathroom is adequately defaced. And you can always bum a ciggie from the nice patrons smoking outside.” — Michael Kohler

You don’t have to be a veteran to spend an evening at the VFW Post in Takoma Park. You just have to love classic rock and country bands, and sitting next to folks who might want to bend your ear with a story or two. “Regulars debated whether anyone should nominate it for this article, lest hipsters descend upon it,” reader Gregory Gorman wrote, perhaps slightly tongue in cheek. “The consensus was that it wasn’t a threat, since the aforementioned crowd probably wouldn’t deign to travel that far to check it out, and would be turned off by the fact that it’s a real dive bar that only takes cash, serves Bud Light in those fake aluminum bottles, has a decibel meter and a Keno monitor, a TV with a sports game and a jukebox, all operating even when there’s a band on the stage.” Except that’s exactly why it’s worth a trek to Takoma Park.

Like many VFWs across the country, Takoma Park’s VFW faced declining membership in the 2010s, so it began hosting concerts and events and welcoming nonveteran residents of this tie-dyed town through the doors, past the antiaircraft gun in the parking lot. These days, live music is featured Tuesday through Saturday, plus the occasional Sunday, with customers warmly greeting bartender and VFW Post 350 Auxiliary secretary Kiki Oliver at the enormous, vaguely U-shaped bar, or having a cigarette out on the spacious backyard, where the mournful sound of a pedal steel guitar leaks out whenever someone opens the door.

Cost of a beer and a shot: Beers start at $3 for domestics and $3.50 for Yuengling, though crafts and locals, such as 7 Locks, are available for a buck or two more. Shots of Jim Beam are $3. The bar is cash only.

State of the bathrooms: Clean and stark, and decorated with framed images of World War II and montages of personal photos of service members sitting on tanks.

Why readers love it: “It’s a diamond in the rough. No food is sold other than chips, but you can bring food in. Also, many a time there’s a potluck or snacks on the side table, free! Great live music, no cover charge, plenty of parking and a wonderful backyard that has a fire pit you can start! There are fundraisers for animal rescues, school supplies and Takoma Park organizations. The people, the workers, the music, the dogs that are brought in make it a homey, relaxing place without the froufrou of other Takoma Park establishments.” — Alice Richardson

“This is a true neighborhood watering hole. Nothing compares to this little local bar, which has established an amazing lineup of local live music every night they are open. They also host events connected with the Takoma Park community, and have a welcoming atmosphere and interesting and diverse clientele that is hard to find in higher-end so-called dive bars.” — Reggie Stout

2315 18th St. NW. No website. (The X account @DansCafeDC is a much-loved parody.)

Going to Dan’s Cafe is a rite of passage for 20-somethings new to D.C. The squat, unadorned building has no windows or sign, incongruous with neighbors on the neon-filled Adams Morgan strip. Inside, the dusty plants overhead, old beer signs hanging on brick walls, the cracked-tile bar and the groups huddled around a tarp-covered pool table resemble, as The Post’s Tim Carman once opined, “a fern bar gone to seed.” Maybe that’s why it’s open only Friday and Saturday nights.

Dan’s has been around since the 1940s, and owned by the same family since 1965, but its signature drink is of much more recent vintage: Pick a shot, and your group is served a batched version in a squeeze bottle, like you might find holding ketchup in a restaurant. Squeeze it directly into your mouth, into a friend’s mouth, into a glass, whatever — it’s the ideal delivery method for young people who are looking to get sloshed while singing along to Cher or Dire Straits or whatever’s blasting from the jukebox. There’s simply nothing else like it in D.C.

Cost of a beer and a shot: Bottles of domestic beer, including Rolling Rock and Yuengling, are $3.75. Pair that with a miniature liquor bottle of your choice, such as Evan Williams bourbon for $6 or Jack Daniel’s for $8. (Yes, basically all liquor comes in a squirt bottle or from the kind of mini bottles served on airplanes.) The bar is cash only.

State of the bathrooms: “The bathroom is extremely smelly and suspect. Dan’s is one of the few places I wish had smoking to cover up the smell,” offers reader Andrew Wiseman, who might even be underselling it.

Why readers “love” it: “There is a level of grime and grit to the place that cannot be replicated or falsified, and it informs the spirit of the place. There are no frills. There is no ceremony. You go into there for one thing and one thing only, and that is to rashly imbibe via squeeze bottle. What is a dive bar if not a bar divested of all artifice?” — Kevin Marcou

“Well, it smells like urine CONSTANTLY. The pool table has definitely never been used; it might as well be cinder blocks under that tarp. The complete lack of signage out front. Oh, it’s cash only, of course. But nothing — nothing — reads ‘dive’ more than the bartender. He loves you if you know what you want and have your cash out, but he will dismiss you with an incredible disdain if you are up at the bar wasting his time.” — Frank Gorman

When Trusty’s Full-Serve opened near the Potomac Avenue Metro station in the summer of 2005, its calling card was that it was the closest bar to RFK Stadium, home of both the Nationals and D.C. United. The neighborhood has changed a lot since then, but not Trusty’s. Cheesesteaks and half-smokes still sizzle on a flat-top grill behind the bar, the smell making your stomach growl even if you just stopped in for a beer. In keeping with the automotive theme, blocky old oil cans have been converted to overhead lamps, and vintage road atlases have been repurposed into an off-kilter map of America. TVs are tuned to whatever sports are on, while the internet jukebox blasts everything from yacht rock to hip-hop.

The upstairs, which contained apartments when Trusty’s opened, has become the Bus Bar, with the bar and craft beer coolers tucked behind the unmistakable shell of a yellow school bus, now a canvas for taggers. There’s also a large, shaded patio, with multiple TVs for catching games. If you prefer a dive bar vibe, stay downstairs.

Cost of a beer and a shot: $8 for a Miller High Life or light beer with a house spirit.

State of the bathrooms: Relatively clean, and covered with vintage automobile magazines, photos of burned-out cars and side-view mirrors.

Why readers love it: “I love the cheesesteak griddle behind the bar, run by multitalented bartender/cooks. We leave with our bellies full and our hair smelling like burgers and cooking grease. Stacks of board games on the tables have incomplete pieces, forcing us to get creative. So fun.” — Veronica Wilson

“My wife and I had a boozy lunch up Pennsylvania Avenue one Saturday and walked around a bit before I suggested we go to Trusty’s — a bar I had been to several times with friends, but my wife hadn’t been to yet. As we walk up the stairs, my wife says, ‘I really want a martini,’ to which I responded, ‘I don’t think that’s in the cards here, and I wouldn’t ask if I were you.’ My wife, who is strong-willed, especially when tipsy, goes ahead with her order of a martini at the bar. The bartender, looking surprised, says: ‘Yeah, we’re not that kind of bar. … While I apparently have vermouth up here for some unknown reason, it hasn’t been opened in all the years I’ve been here.’ While this could have ended awkwardly, my wife rallies with an order more appropriate, bourbon soda. Despite the order misstep and potential for appearing a bit too uppity, we ended up having a great time, staying much longer than planned and having a couple of shots of well tequila with the bartender — as is customary for any self-respecting dive in my fairly robust dive bar experience, having lived in New Orleans for a pretty good while in my ’20s.” — Casey Pickell

First-time visitors venturing into one of D.C.’s oldest neighborhood bars can expect to get the lay of the land from the bartender: The bar is cash only. The sign outside says “Grille,” but there’s no food, except for bags of Utz chips and Cheez-Its. Keep your drink orders simple, just a spirit and a mixer: “I don’t have limes, so I can’t make you a margarita,” a bartender recently told a pair of newcomers. The rest you can figure out for yourself: There are board games behind the bar, from Trivial Pursuit to Risk. (The bartender’s never seen anyone playing the latter.) The cute vintage jukeboxes at every table are for decoration only; if you want to play a song, head to the back of the room. Old movies play on the TV.

The bar opened in 1935, and the framed portraits around the room reflect a mid-century sensibility: Elvis, John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix, Judy Garland. It’s brighter than it used to be, and a little more presentable than it was two decades ago, but that can’t diminish the genuine dive patina that customers of all ages come to bask in.

Cost of a beer and a shot: $3 for a can of Natty Boh, $6 for a shot of Old Grand Dad.

State of the bathrooms: The Raven’s bathrooms are legendary, with one particularly memorable piece of graffiti from the 1990s that read, “If you had to take a cab here, you don’t belong here.” While they’ve been refurbished and repainted in the last decade or so, it doesn’t take long for graffiti — tags, philosophical musings, “Simpsons” quotes — to again cover every square inch of the single stalls.

Why readers love it: “Cheap drinks, nothing trendy, and long-standing bartenders of an eccentric or curmudgeonly demeanor,” writes Jonathan Psotka, who remembers “the bartender shouting ‘Hell, no!’ when a bachelorette limo rolled up, and jumping from behind the counter to bar the door.”

“The regulars. Hands down the best feature! We all knew one another. It’s an extended living room for the Gen X folks in the neighborhood. Also, so many people are tatted, not giving a care, yet are overeducated federal workers.” — Kendrea Snead

Solly’s is an old-fashioned corner bar, located on the busy corner of 11th and U streets NW. It feels like it’s been there forever, and it kind of has — John Solomon, the former manager of Old Dominion’s brewpub and coach of the Washington Irish rugby club, opened the no-frills bar in the fall of 2006. It’s expanded and contracted over the years, but settled into a nice groove as a low-key destination with a variety of beers and whiskeys at different price points, with no-nonsense bartenders who look out for their regulars.

The two-story building is a gathering place for Ohio State alumni and Miami Dolphins fans, but the framed rugby jerseys are a reminder of Solly’s roots — members of Solomon’s rugby teams literally built out the space. The nooks in the glass bay windows are the best place to sit and watch U Street go by — unless you want to claim one of the picnic tables on the patio.

Cost of a beer and a shot: $8.50 for a Miller High Life and rye whiskey, but the chalkboard behind the bar has a whole menu of combos, depending on how fancy you’re feeling. ($10.50 for a DC Brau and Jameson is a move.)

State of the bathrooms: Stickers, markers, spray paint — every inch of the bathroom walls has been tagged and retagged, even on the ceiling.

Why readers love it: “Solly’s is the perfect dive bar for a few reasons: cheap cans of beer and ever-flowing shots of liquor, especially after a big sports victory; it is small and cozy; loyal customers that love Solly’s for everything it is (and it is not), and where all the regulars know each other; and a staff that mixes friendliness with a bit of apathy for the annoying 20-something-year-olds that frequent U Street.” — Melissa Harto

“On a random Tuesday, there was a flood warning all across D.C. The streets were flush with water, my plans were canceled, but I was bored. I didn’t want to go home, which was conveniently near Solly’s at the time. Lo and behold, the door to Solly’s was open, not a soul in the place besides Neil hanging out behind the bar. To have a place like that where I could drink PBR to my heart’s content and shoot the s--- for a few hours is the last remaining relic of places that act as social gathering spots without hurting the wallet.” — Meital Kupfer

When Ivy & Coney opened on New Year’s Day 2014, the owners were upfront about their inspirations: They wanted to re-create the “archetypal Midwestern corner bar,” down to the Old Style sign swinging outside, with touches like murals of Harry Caray and Sparky Anderson. The owners hail from Chicago and Detroit, two of the great dive bar cities of the United States, and their vision involved showing the Cubs and Tigers on TVs, serving hot dogs topped with beefy chili or a garden’s worth of veggies, and shots of Malort, the love-it-or-hate-it bitter spirit from Chicago.

The formula has changed a little over the years: Ivy now accepts credit cards, no longer offers free peanuts, and doubled in size with an all-weather rooftop deck, providing more room for intramural teams to gather after their games. Its annual Hanukkah Bar pop-up draws large crowds. But it’s still a neighborhood bar at heart: Wisecracking bar staff welcome Michigan alumni and Midwestern transplants as well as those who’ve been here far longer, delivering cheap beers and better food than you’d expect. In early June, Ivy & Coney’s owners announced the bar was dropping tipping and moving to an all-inclusive pricing model, while keeping daily specials like half-price Detroit-style pizza (Monday) and Italian beef sandwiches (Tuesday). Who says dive bars can’t innovate?

Cost of a beer and a shot: $8 for either Miller Lite and a Four Roses bourbon or the signature “Chicago Handshake”: a pint of lager with a side of Malort.

State of the bathrooms: Cozy and covered in (often clever) graffiti.

Why readers love it: “The little nooks and crannies, and the lights and food, and everything about it. Just has the perfect ‘old’ vibe. Always a mix of people in there, too.” — Lisa Ebel

“Love the feeling that it’s a hometown bar in the Midwest somewhere! Plenty of TVs, outdoor patio and very reasonable prices.” — John Colpoys

“Cheap beer, hot dogs with neon-green relish, tacky Upper Midwest decor, and everyone’s a jerk!” — William Kenlon

“Great vibes.” “Welcoming atmosphere.” “Best staff.” “Feeling of community.” Variations on these phrases jump out again and again while reading nominations and votes for the Red Derby, which has been a firm favorite since it arrived on 14th Street in late 2007, after a brief stint in Adams Morgan. As more than one reader noted, the Derby really does have “something for everyone” — raucous trivia tournaments, board games, pool, darts, a rooftop deck for lazy summer afternoons and a dimly lit, red-hued main floor for cold winter evenings. The canned beer and cider are affordable, the mixed drinks are creative, and the reliable, just-out-of-the-fryer bar food includes fried mac and cheese and popcorn shrimp. There are plenty of specials — all sides are half-price on “Paul Rudd Wednesdays,” and the “24/7 happy hour” means there are always $3.50 rail shots and $3.50 mystery beers. The Derby might be a little too cool and self-aware for some dive connoisseurs — $13 co*cktails on a rooftop deck? — but its legion of fans love it as is.

Cost of a beer and a shot: The Red Derby has a whopping 16 combos on its menu, ranging from the $8 Max & Lou (Natty Boh and rail bourbon) to the $25 1 Night in Tokyo, which pairs a 22-ounce can of Sapporo and a side of sparkling jelly peach sake. Feeling indecisive? Let your bartender pair any beer and any spirit in the house for $15.50, but, the menu warns, “no bitchin’, no moanin’, no refund.”

State of the bathrooms: Surprisingly spacious. The walls are covered with gilt-framed paintings and magazine collages — most of which have had mustaches added, are covered in graffiti, etc.

Why readers love it: “Everyone has a home away from home at Derby. The kind, quirky staff, eclectic music, and the hangout options of a large outdoor space and luxurious, mirrored main floor make Derby not only a time capsule of sorts but an ever-fulfilling place you can find your vibe in. The dependable bar food, local bottle fare and fun beer shot combos are all [an] added bonus.” — MaryAlice DeMatteo

“No TVs. The music is generally really amazing. The bartenders are incredibly smart and friendly, yet there’s no pretense. The regulars frown upon people coming in and acting ‘D.C.’ More radicals than snobs at Red Derby. Great prices on everything. Incredible people.” — Tony Miller

It hasn’t been an easy few years for Silver Spring’s favorite basem*nt hangout. In March 2015, a two-alarm fire at the Bombay Gaylord restaurant upstairs shuttered the building. In January 2016, a water main on a neighboring street broke twice, sending four feet of standing water into the Quarry House, which was gutted and closed for more than two years while it was restored down to the exact finish of the knotty pine paneling. Then came the pandemic, when it didn’t seem like a great idea to share a low-ceilinged, below-ground watering hole with complete strangers. “We used to joke, ‘What’s next, locusts?’” says Jackie Greenbaum, who bought the venerable bar in 2005. Its history goes back to before World War I, she says — the Quarry House’s liquor license is No. 30 in Montgomery County, issued in 1934.

But regulars don’t come here for a Disney-fied version of a dive bar. They come because the Quarry House has soul, the kind that sounds like Tom Waits on the free CD jukebox, or local punk and rockabilly bands playing in the back room, and regulars conversing over whiskeys at the bar, or under a framed beer sign from the 1960s. The menu is basic, but better than you might expect while walking down the 13 steps from the Georgia Avenue sidewalk, starring juicy burgers topped with smoky cheese and fresh jalapeños, and tater tots fried to a satisfying crunch. The multi-page drink menu includes around 250 whiskeys — you can spend anywhere from $4 to almost $400 on a sip — and an extensive craft beer list with a Maryland focus, but with beers starting for less than $4. It’s a choose-your-own-adventure kind of place — one you’ll want to explore again and again.

Cost of a beer and a shot: A pint of Peabody Heights’ Old Oriole Park is $3.67, and whiskeys — take your pick from Beam, Dickel, Overholt and so forth — start at $4.

State of the bathrooms: One of the quirks of the Quarry House is that the bathrooms are located in the back dining room, behind where the bands set up. When newcomers are on what looks like a first date on a Saturday night, “I always think, ‘Let’s [see] what kind of date you got here,’ because they have to walk through the show to get to the bathroom,” Greenbaum jokes. “It’s part of the capital-C charm of the Quarry House.” The two bathrooms have been thoroughly and cleverly graffitied, including with an image of Che Guevara wearing a clown nose, labeled “Cheer up!”

Why readers love it: “You go down the steps from the sidewalk into a low-ceilinged ’70s/’80s-esque small bar that smells a little of smoke and mildew. If you sit in the back room, you’ll have to share space with boxes of liquor, and the bathroom is a tiny little cupboard that is adorned with some very creative, and extensive, graffiti. The food is cheap, but decent, and their whiskey and beer menus are big.” — Phil Hosea

“It’s a basem*nt bar with cheap local beer, surprisingly great burgers, good specials and just the right amount of grime. The $6 burger on Monday with a $3 beer followed by a $4 whiskey ginger is value I haven’t found anywhere else in the D.C. area. The constantly rotating taps mean there is new beer to try every time I visit, while their spicy BLT is one of the best BLTs I have had.” — Mark Thiergartner

“Nothing fancy or pretentious; but at the same time, it’s not dirty or run-down, a frequent misconception people have when thinking of dive bars. What makes it perfect is, first of all, the people — both the staff and much more so the clientele, who are a very broad and diverse range of people. Secondly, the beer selection is legendary, with an extensive whiskey list. And the food is good but at an appropriate level for the venue and ambiance.” — Mark Anderson

“It’s been a long tradition in downtown Silver Spring. I loved it enough to spend the evening there after our wedding reception with our friends and family 41 years ago! Just went back on our anniversary!” — Janice Williams

“Ageless charm without yuppie bastardization” is the slogan at JV’s, which has been operating in a strip mall on the side of Arlington Boulevard since 1947. Some things don’t seem to have changed since then, like the cold bottled beer and legendary meatloaf. (Owner Lorraine Campbell boasts that 60 tons of the meatloaf has been sold over the years.) More importantly, JV’s is a honky-tonk throwback in the truest sense: Live music is featured every night, and twice Friday through Sunday, when one act starts at 4 p.m. and the headliner hits the stage at 8:30.

First-time visitors might take in the comfortable booths, the walls fully covered in patriotic tributes to veterans and autographed band photos, and the big central bar, and think it’s always been like this. But JV’s doubled in size in 2015, when Campbell took over the pharmacy next door and knocked down the walls, expanding both the stage and the hardwood dance floor where couples joyfully twist and twirl to blues, classic rock, disco and soul. They can get onstage, too, during the regular blues and bluegrass jam sessions and the popular open mic nights.

Cost of a beer and a shot: JV’s doesn’t sell hard liquor, but a bottle of Yuengling is $2 at happy hour ($5.99 regularly).

State of the bathrooms: Industrial, but clean, and filled with signs for upcoming concerts instead of graffiti.

Why readers love it: “This place has been in business for over 75 years, and not only does it have its own feisty and unique atmosphere, but it is also a strong community of music-loving locals and musicians passing through. There’s live music every night, which is hard to find these days as music venues are dropping like flies since covid. They are also big supporters of veterans. Lorraine and her staff really took care of their community during covid and were offering meals to the homeless or anyone needing a hot meal at a time when restaurants were really struggling. JV’s is more than just a ‘dive bar’; it’s a legendary and iconic testament to the true heart of community and the power that music has to bring people together. It’s my favorite dancing spot, and the music is always top-notch, along with the staff!” — Karen King

“It’s been around since 1947, quite a feat for any establishment in NoVa. Still possesses its old honky-tonk charm — live music almost every night, cheap beer, friendly but a little edgy staff, greasy-but-good bar food. Plus, you can hang at the bar and watch soap operas on weekday afternoons.

“I have seen a few fights break out, once between two screaming, hair-pulling women. The band (including the great Danny Gatton) just segued into a cool instrumental to accompany the brawl.” — John Williams

“When I arrived in the DMV area over a decade ago, JV’s became my first and favorite dive. There is a relaxed energy that feels like both a party vibe and a family gathering, even on your first visit. An elementary teacher by day, and moonlighting ‘girl’ trumpet player after hours, I sometimes struggle to find safe spaces to perform and network. JV’s is always there, ready and waiting, to be that musical home for me and countless others. Lorraine, the owner and heart of JV’s, makes it her personal mission to use her platform to elevate and celebrate others — especially women and those in need of a boost.” — Melissa Escobar

Taxidermied animals — including a bear, an owl and the backsides of several deer — keep watch over shenanigans at the Tune Inn, a legendary dive bar just over three blocks from the Capitol. Hill staffers, veterans, neighbors and tourists all pull up bar stools for cold drinks and the city’s best mozzarella sticks, but it’s the crowds of loyal regulars, who refer to themselves as a family, that really make this bar worth coming back to. You never know what you’ll find: baseball fans watching games, a happy hour office crew singing along to country music on the jukebox, couples in black tie rolling in for patty melts and drinks in a corner booth after a fancy dinner.

The Tune Inn has been a fixture on the Hill since 1947, and it’s currently operated by the third generation of the Nardelli family — an anchor of stability in a neighborhood that turns over every couple of years. It was spruced up in 2011 after a devastating fire, adding retro booths, removing the dingy drop ceilings to uncover a skylight and putting local craft brews on tap. The antler chandeliers even got a nice dusting. But it still opens every day at 8 a.m. and serves breakfast until the wee hours. The bartenders and customers greet one another by name. And the neon sign outside is a beacon.

Cost of a beer and a shot: $12 for a Pabst Blue Ribbon and a rail whiskey.

State of the bathrooms: The dark gray walls are surprisingly graffiti-free.

Why readers love it: “There are always regulars drinking co*cktails in the morning. There are no fancy drinks, and the food is greasy. After the fire, it was basically the same but just cleaner and with less aging on the woodwork.” — Stratton Edwards

“I saw a bar fight where neither party could actually stand long enough to hit the other one. Hardly anyone blinked an eye, not even the bartender. A woman, perhaps connected to one or other of the swaying combatants, dumped a pitcher of beer on both of them.” — Lynne Larkin

“Utterly unpretentious, the Tune Inn has a timeless feel and gruff but efficient waitstaff. Well drinks and beer are the focus, and you might get a weird glance if you try to order a martini. It’s a good place for a boisterous conversation among friends.” — Tommy Brown

“The odd decorations give it a quirky but homey feel. With the news always going and Hill staffers decompressing after their days, it’s always a great place for eavesdropping and a happy hour beer.” — Natalie Giannini

“Everyone loves the Tune Inn. Senators. Staffers. Longtime neighborhood residents. Young people. Old people. And there is nothing like getting a room full of that kind of diversity all singing along to the jukebox.” — Tara Bunch

The AC conks out for weeks or months at a time.

The ceilings leak, sometimes onto unsuspecting patrons sitting at the bar. Oh, and one of the bathrooms has a warning on its door about the dripping ceiling.

Some bar stools are so wonky, you worry they might collapse at any minute.

The vinyl covering the booths is torn, exposing foam inside.

And yet. Just try to find a seat at the Pug on H Street NE on weekend nights, when go-go and ska and punk rock blast from the stereo and the bartenders serve up streams of whiskey shots and cold canned beers. It’s even more crowded on the semiregular Taylor Swift nights, in which a much younger crowd packs into the bar to sing along with vinyl playing behind the bar, much to the bemusem*nt of regulars.

Owner Tony Tomelden says he didn’t set out to open a dive bar back in 2007, when the Pug was part of the first wave of bars that heralded a revival on H Street NE. “But we’re low-key, and we’re cheap, and we’re a place you can go where there’s very little pretension,” he says. “If I had the money to get my air conditioning working full time, or to seal that leaky roof, I would, but at $5 for a Miller High Life, I’m not going to make it.” Still, the Pug’s atmosphere, from the music to year-round Christmas lights to the motley collection of bartenders and customers, is enough that regulars roll their eyes and embrace the Pug’s quirks. Bartender Chaz Powers even printed up fans with the Pug’s logo to use the next time the air conditioning dies. The place doesn’t take itself too seriously, and that’s just one of the reasons it’s built such a loyal following.

Cost of a beer and a shot: $10 for a bottle of Miller High Life and a shot of Jameson.

State of the bathrooms: As noted above, patrons are greeted with a sign reading: “Please excuse our leaking ceiling. Unless you have an umbrella handy, please use the bathroom to the left.” The working bathroom is roomy but a mess, with open shelves of supplies, and mops and buckets sitting out. Old newspaper front pages from the 2019 World Series and 2018 Stanley Cup finals cover the walls, alongside images of Marion Barry and local boxers, though many have been graffitied. Ignore the “Please don’t shower in our bathroom” sign at your peril.

Why readers love it: “You need cheap drinks, bartenders who know your name and a collection of characters who sit at the bar. A vibe is also essential. The Pug has all this and more. There’s Taylor Swift nights that bring people in and ‘Bachelorette’ watch parties that create community. Anytime I’ve stopped in for a Miller High Life, I can always find a bar patron or two to chat with about everything and anything, except politics, per the Pug’s rules. The Pug Taylor Swift nights are just incredible. But I feel like the installation of the Marion Barry head from the H Street Country Club golf course is the diviest thing about this D.C. staple.” — Katherine Knott

“It has great decor as a boxing-themed bar. The staff is gruff yet friendly (especially to regulars). The overall atmosphere is a local watering hole that happens to have a good selection of regional beers, and a D.C./Baltimore game is always on the TV. Normally, they only offer bar snacks (especially cheese balls), which only makes it feel more like a fun dive. One time a bachelorette party repeatedly asked for a round of lemon drop shots, even though the bartender said they didn’t make lemon drops. When the bachelorette party insisted, the bartender took their credit card and gave them whiskey shots instead.” — Greg Stathes

“A man walked in, sat down on the stool next to me and proceeded to down the co*cktail to my left, which was unattended while its owner went to the bathroom. Clearly inebriated, he then fell off his stool backward with a crash, and was carried out in a firm yet respectful manner by bar staff. The man’s drink was remade before he returned in a mechanical way that made me think that this had inexplicably happened before. Equilibrium restored, patrons continued their conversations without a hitch, and the bartender returned to folded-arms position.” — Ben Mahler

“Completely unpretentious. Good regulars. Cheap beer and whiskey. Good bartenders. Mismatched ‘furniture.’ Crappy AC. Shots are plentiful.” — Tapio Christiansen

“Its authenticity, its variety of proper dive-bar beers and spirits, the cast of regular characters that call it home, its owner Tony and his unique, eclectic taste in music (Tony himself is a D.C. dive bar icon), and the fact the Pug has survived on H Street for as long as it has and never changed, though almost everything around it has! And finally, its name itself: the Pug, short for ‘the pugilist.’ No better dive bar name than that!” — Michael Semler

“It’s a local bar. They welcome everyone from ages 21 to 80. Tony T, the owner, has fundraisers for great causes, and he’s a wonderful person also who is kind and caring. He’s been on H Street quite a while, while many bars have closed. He opens on Thanksgiving so anyone [who] has nowhere to eat can go to the Pug, bring a dish, and enjoy some turkey and fixins.” — Maryann Mazza