Bentley’s Roadhouse

I will give Bentley’s three stars out of some nostalgia, as well as in recognition of the fact that they only kicked me out of there once, and afterwards I ended up making out with some guy who looked like Paul Rudd. I remember everything and nothing about this bar. I mean, I think I still could tell you the setup and that they played «American Pie» at closing every time I went there, and we all got in a circle and sang along.
I can’t tell you what happened to my money or what happened to the night, but back in the boomtimes of the very late 90s, $ 20 American went a long way, and got us all mighty drunk. So, though I despised your sweaty interior and ridiculous lines and that mean bouncer who I escaped from when he wouldn’t let me tell my friends that I got booted, well, I had great times there.
It was like a high school reunion for a couple of years, and at the time, I enjoyed that. Thanks for turning me into the biggest make-​out bandit in Metro Detroit and the oft-​proclaimed Queen of Windsor. My uncle Ed always used to call me the Queen of Royal Oak, but he was wrong. This lovely city, which enjoys all of Detroit’s virtues and virtually none of its problems — that’s my real domain. So here’s to you, Bentley’s, and to my first real bar experience, at your hands. And here’s to all the guys I made out with there.