Dr Pikl's — Local services in Independence

Well... hello, Darlin’. Stopped in to PIKLS around 10 p.m. after a long day chasing fish and fresh air, hoping to sip something smooth and decompress. But what I got instead felt more like an audition for a Prohibition-era remake of Footloose.

I order a Disaronno and sour—a simple, sweet cordial cocktail. The bartender, in what I can only describe as a mix of confusion and condescension, asked how I wanted it made. Um... the standard way? You know, like how you’d pour literally every other Amaretto Sour in America? I wasn’t there to teach a mixology class. Just pour the drink, Darlin’.

Speaking of which—she called everyone Darlin’. Not once. Not twice. We’re talkin’ every third word out of her mouth. I half expected Conway Twitty to rise from the jukebox and serenade us personally. If she’d said “Hello, Darlin’” one more time, I might’ve filed for emotional damages.

Now here’s where it went off the rails. I was maybe a third of the way into my first drink—hadn’t even gotten to the ice melt—when she stops mid-shift to ask: “Are you driving?” Caught off guard, I answered with a straight face, “Hadn’t planned on it. I’m waiting on my helicopter.” Because really—what else do you say to a question that weird and condescending? I wasn’t staggering. I wasn’t slurring. I was literally sipping the weakest drink I’ve had in years. It was like being breathalyzed after licking a rum cake.

She wouldn’t let it go, either. Kept circling back to it. "Better have some water." "Might have to cut you off." It was surreal. I’ve had bolder communion wine.

And then, to top it all off—$7 for that drink. Seven dollars! I’ve paid less at actual country clubs, where the bartenders know how to pour and don’t interrogate you like you just failed a field sobriety test on the way in. For a neighborhood bar with fluorescent lights and trust issues? That’s highway robbery, not hospitality.

Then they hit last call at 10:30 p.m. The place was already clearing out at 10:15. I don’t blame them. It’s hard to keep a crowd when your bartending style is a cross between Miss Manners and a parole officer.

If you're looking for judgmental glances, weak drinks, and to be called Darlin’ until you question your own name—PIKLS is the place. Otherwise, skip it. Unless your helicopter’s already...

I love going here to play pool. My husband brought me to Dr Pikl's 32 years ago when we first started dating. He continued going off and on, I recently, as of February of this year started going again, much to my husband not liking going there with me now. It's only because he wants to spend time with "old" friends/girlfriends/lovers when he goes there. When "WE" go together, it's kind of funny, because all of these "old" "friends/girlfriends/lovers are NEVER there. I love going there, my hubby had no problems taking me there when we were dating, married, etc., only because he thought I was pretty and attractive 30÷ years ago. Now I am 68 years old, not YOUNG, I assume not pretty and attractive enough anymore. BUT . . . I LOVE GOING HERE TO PLAY POOL and just hang out. It's an excellent place for a person to go...

Sunday at 9:44 was refused at door said already called last call and they were closed. door said they was open until 12. They never will have customers if they keep closing early. That was first time going....new to area....we now will find a new bar bar to go to.

04/19/18 went back to give them another try it still sucked!! Asked bartender for drink with fresh can of monster ..... Shouldn't try to serve a pro monster drinker an already opened (for who knows how...