When: Thursday, 4:47pm
Sandy Hut is one of those dive bars that kept the name but in the last decade was revitalized into a “dive.” It does not make any sense that it lacks a website.
Even though I used to live one block from it, I never went because it was 1990 and I wasn’t drinking age yet. My mom and her 27-year-old boyfriend frequented it, however. In fact, the eventual drunk-driving step-dude totaled my high school VW that my mom seized under eminent domain right near the Sandy Hut. When she answered the phone after the accident, it was the first time I had ever heard her say “fuck.” The second and last time was when I managed to get her car towed in the middle of the night.
Age appropriate? Yes. Young creative types now frequent it but there are also plenty of older folks. In fact, I was meeting a co-worker who is probably somewhere in her late 50s and lives in San Francisco but has a house in Portland. At this early hour, at least half of the patrons were over 40 and one woman was easily 60s, super skinny in a black summer dress and fedora, giving off beach goth vibes.