It's somewhat intimidating from the outside. The short, squat red brick building next to an empty lot, with its hand-painted sign and windows encased in protective metal caging doesn't exactly scream welcoming reassurances. The soul music blaring from the jukebox, however, indicates good taste, at the very least.
Inside, it's a typical old man bar. The place has been smoked in for so long that they could tear the building down and you'd still be able to smell the stale cigarettes in the air. On the walls is the usual swag, courtesy of the major American brewers, and at the bar is a row of hardcore, afternoon beer-and-a-shot blue collars, their presence also courtesy of Budweiser and Miller.
The bartender relaxes and gets friendly once she realizes you're not there to issue a summons or look for health code violations. Service is attentive, but no-nonsense. If you get friendly with the bartender, she'll try to guess what kind of music you like and play you some songs on the jukebox.
Don't look for much in the way of drinks besides the usual array of cocktails and domestic bottles. At one point, under different management, Popcorn had karaoke on Monday nights, but those days are in the past.
Centerstage Reviewer: Bill Burman