“Who doesn't love a place where you can get a little pussy and a little head?” the bartender asks, laughing as she points at a miniature plastic kitten and some foam forming at the top of a gigantic beer mug. That sense of humor runs through Tommy's Tavern. The magic of Tommy's, as it is with any good bar worth its weight in cheap draft beer (Tommy's has only two: Budweiser and Busch Light), is all in the details: a TV on top of the fridge behind the bar playing “Enter the Dragon”; red-pepper-shaped Christmas lights serving as the bar's only form of lighting; and tubs of peanuts and cheese balls served in paper bowls. Small crowds gather to play darts (there's a league) or to slam back a “famous” Joe's Beer: a mug served right from the freezer that can hold up to three bottles of draft beer. The owner brings in food from home to serve to patrons. No one there is technically considered kin, but Tommy's has become a spot that resembles a happy, and lovably dysfunctional, family reunion.
