What do we mean by "bro bar?" More specifically, what do we mean by "best?" (Guess we didn't use up all of our irony with the Best Hipster Bars list.) Well, it's a funny question. For a large segment of the population, "bro bar" means plaid shorts, beer pong and booze so cheap you'll make a bad decision or get into a fight (as if those are mutually exclusive). It might also entail a little racism. Simply put, for a lot of people it's "pure heaven."
Regardless of which side of the argument you land on, these are the creme de la creme of bro bars. Avoid them at all costs or seek them out as your go-to party spots this weekend. The choice is yours.
If you ever find yourself at Concrete Cowboy, you've fucked up badly. It's an Uptown tourist trap populated by badly bleached blondes and country bros who you have to watch your drink around. It's the fucking Florida Georgia Line of honky tonks -- manufactured, kitschy, and overpriced. You know, a real hell-on-earth type of place. I hate it. I hate it so much that I want to fill it up with gun powder, run a trail of gasoline to it and toss the cigarette that sparks the flame. As it explodes I will walk away in slow motion while a Kanye song plays. You want Dallas to be a world-class city? Start by burning this fucker to the ground. (We kid. We would never promote destruction of property.) Jaime-Paul Falcon
2512 Cedar Springs Road Dallas, concretecowboydallas.com
Public House's biggest attraction was dollar doubles before midnight for the longest time. You know why they did that? Because you need to be absolutely wasted to deal with the flesh free-for-all that is Public House. Public House's other claim to fame is that it is Denton's drunk girl capital. Imagine the most annoying drunk girl you've ever met. The "nonsensical, stiletto-wearing, telling you stories about their family you didn't ask to hear, at odds with her cell phone, onomatopoeia shouting" drunk girl. Now imagine a hundred of them in the same place. Add the DJ alternating between Nickelback, top 40 rap and country music, and drinking at Public House is done for. James Khubiar
125 Ave. A, Denton, publichousedenton.com/
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Henderson Tap House somehow freezes a loathsome moment, Texas-OU weekend, in time, and serves it up 52 weekends a year. It has everything to recreate the experience: overwrought Uptown residents getting "charged" about who-the-fuck knows, interminable lines for everything and anything, and the customer service of the DMV. If you're truly lucky, you'll catch a glimpse of the greatest people-watching spectacle of Texas-OU weekend: the drunken parking-lot brawl. Despite good food and drink selections, it's hard to stomach this bar's overbearing frat-house aura. Andrew Hawkins
2323 N. Henderson Ave, Dallas, hendersontaphouse.com
With an exterior as drab and lifeless as the time you're likely to have inside, Knox Street reels in those mid-20s to early-30s types who envision a "night out" as drunkenly stumbling to early-2000s Nelly sorta-hits. Nested near a cluster of mattress retailers, Knox Street draws in a crowd with a sage mission that reaches a fever pitch every Friday: To get as fucked up as possible, ideally as quickly as possible, before Monday rolls around. So if you're looking to "get rowdy" on Dallas' most dimly lit dance floor, Knox Street Pub just might be for you. Andrew Hawkins
4447 McKinney Ave., Dallas, knoxstreetpub.com
We're all aware that Kung Fu Saloon has a completely and utterly fucked up history, i.e., they're racist. It's not up for debate. I don't condone racist establishments, but bros would eat at a restaurant owned by David Duke if the food tasted OK and didn't kill you. Bros don't care -- if they did, Kung Fu would be out of business by now. It's got Uptown girls living in their Uptown world, and that's what you came out for, right? Bro-friendly Top 40 reverberates through the joint and there are mall arcade games to pair nicely with your luxury beer, Bud Light Platinum, and your case of arrested development. H. Drew Blackburn
2911 Routh St., Dallas, kungfusaloon.com/dallas/
When you walk into Lucky Lou's, it immediately hits you: a smell that's a dense mix of old vomit and cheap perfume bought at Victoria's Secret. There's no mistaking that you're in a bro bar, and there's no way to sugarcoat what goes on at Lou's. It's an episode of Wild Kingdom: A range of men from your assembly-line frat-boy to theyour incognito townie all desperately preen to impress the girls. As for the girls? They're sad, poorly put together co-eds hoping to espouse their pseudo-cultural, pseudo-intellectual ideas to the aforementioned men at the college bar, who couldn't care less, but nod anyway. Time was, you could drink and shoot pool in peace as long as you kept smoking a cigarette (mostly to mask the smell), but we're living in a post-Bloomberg world, and those days are long gone. James Khubiar
1207 W. Hickory St., Denton, drinkatlous.com
If you're looking to catch a pay-per-view fight and want to avoid paying at least $55 to watch it at home, OT Tavern can seem like a good option. The valet staff are friendly and the host is cordial. But make no mistake about it, they are leading you into a Bro Zone. There are plenty of TVs and the sound system is formidable under normal circumstances. But groups of men who only get as casual as a dress shirt tucked into blue jeans fill up the tables, drinking awful beer and constantly shrieking "Woo-hoo!" in women's voices. These bros are childlike and abusive, too dumb to watch TV, harassing anything that looks like a lady and causing trouble with guys who aren't part of the gang. Jeremy Hallock
3603A Greenville Ave. Dallas, ottaverndallas.com
I'll go ahead and say it: The Rustic is the faux-Southern trend at its absolute shittiest peak. The food is terrible, the people are worse and they named the fucking stage after Pat Green. It's everything wrong with Dallas culture: Fake country, bad dye jobs and bros living well beyond their means. I would literally volunteer for a time travel experiment that strands me in the plague-ridden medieval times where people never bathe, everyone dies by 30 and there's no Twitter (God forbid!) rather than step another foot into this cesspool of over-privileged douchebags. Jaime-Paul Falcon
3656 Howell St., Dallas, therustic.com/
Sambuca 360 has a rope and excessive security at its door attempting to prevent unattractive people from entering. The clientele is of the type whose party game of choice is beer pong, the national douchebag pastime, and their go-to karaoke song is "Piano Man," the national douchebag anthem. There's also an abundance of much older bros still wearing all the Affliction and Ed Hardy clothing they invested in around 2006, seeking a younger female companion with less-than-favorable finances in need of a mutually beneficial relationship. Both groups are like hunters in duck-face season, vying ferociously for ladies' attention like it's the goddamn Hunger Games. The bright side of Sambuca 360 is that you can leave the place and catch a movie across the street at the Plano Angelika. Eva Raggio
7200 Bishop Road, Plano, sambuca360.com
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Addison is the Bro Bar Capital of Texas. Actually, it's known as the Restaurant Capital, but it may as well also claim that title. There are many fine contenders, but the "winner" is ultimately Sherlock's, a real Meat Market, and the meat is a can of Spam. The floors are always waxed with freshly spilled beer and there are at least 2 people vomiting in the restrooms at any given time. The scene at the huge Darts Bar plays out like it was Hitchcock-directed, but even creepier: Females accosted by men with bejeweled butts on their jeans, wearing a minimum of one sports-related item, introducing themselves with a high five. Eventually, their bitch face wins out, and the Bros move on to find a bigger cup size. The bar is not without entertainment, though, there's usually a fight going on outside, free of charge. Eva Raggio
5100 Belt Line Road, Dallas, sherlockspub.com
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