With online reviews like “worst bar in San Diego,” “a crowd that'll make you stick close to your wallet” and my personal fave: “dirty bad sluts who will suck for a buck,” Spring Valley's Shooters Cocktails (10761 Jamacha Blvd.) is the land that time forgot.
Featuring a hefty dose of eccentrics, thanks to the neighboring Sweetwater Lodge mobilehome community, it's a fly-by-theseat-of-your-pants kinda place. One moment you're dialing 911, waiting for the right second to hit send, the next you're getting complimented for having all your teeth.
With more twists than an M. Night Shyamalan movie and a structure reminiscent of Pac-Man's maze, its hardwood-floor-topped bar is hands down the craziest I've seen. Some race-car-shaped pendant lights and fake plants galore complete the posh-crack-den scheme.
“We get an interesting crowd, that's for sure,” bartender Christine said, as she caught me gazing at the bevy of passé hairstyles— ranging from the man braid to the rare African-American mullet. I then enquired about her most memorable moment behind the bar.
“Just one?” she replied. “That's kinda tough.”
She told a tale of a bargoer approaching her, saying, “I see that hair of yours—you're not fooling anyone. I know you're a pirate,” as well as an anecdote from last Friday, when a bar brawl reached its zenith after a lady took hold of a pool cue and yelled, “Don't make me get all trailer on your ass!” Mad testosterone was in the air—King Kong-like chest pounding and all—as Charger fever was in full force on Monday night, with phrases like “Get 'em Rivers” and the more suggestive “Milk the clock” constantly being belted out. As expected, however, it wasn't a matter of if, but when crazy would manage to seep in.
“Hey, fella,” a patron told me as I made my way out the bar. “You remind me of my first wife. She used to be into blumpkins.”Yeah, I'll hold on to that buck for a rainy day.