The Other Side — Restaurant in Kearney

OTHER SIDE – WHERE THE BUFFALO ROAM AND THE SANDWICHES BITE BACK * Listen, you degenerate road warriors and cornfield phantoms of Nebraska’s endless flatline: if you’re clawing your way through Kearney like some half-mad coyote on a bad mescaline bender, pull over at The Other Side before the Platte River drags you under. This ain’t your grandma’s diner—it’s a goddamn oasis of grease and grit, a flickering neon hallucination where the locals whisper about UFOs over their whiskeys and the menu reads like a Hunter S. Thompson fever dream, all primal hunger and reckless abandon. I stumbled in there last Tuesday, sweat-soaked from dodging semis on I-80, my veins humming with the black coffee of existential dread, and emerged three hours later reborn, belly full of rebellion, soul sloshing with something dangerously close to joy. First off, Mia—Christ, Mia behind the bar is the beating heart of this joint, a pistol-whip of a bartender with eyes like shattered brake lights and a laugh that could disarm a grizzly. She’s the kind of force that pours your poison with a wink and a warning, slinging stories of Kearney’s underbelly while your tab climbs like a politician’s lies. Mia didn’t just serve me; she orchestrated the chaos, turning a solo pit stop into a symposium on the American underdog. Tip your hat, or better yet, your flask, to her—she’s the reason you’d crawl back from the grave for one more round. And then there’s Ty, the shadowy chef lurking in the back like a rogue elephant hunter with a grudge. I caught sight of him through the kitchen pass-through while devouring the Dilpo sandwich, that feral beast of a thing ordered low-carb, no bread, just pure, naked slabs of meat and fixings piled high like the spoils of some illicit buffalo stampede. It hit the plate steaming, a fistful of defiance against the carb cartel, and Ty himself ambled out mid-bite to eyeball my technique—grinning like he’d just outfoxed the FDA. “No bread?” he growled, clapping my shoulder hard enough to rattle my fillings. “You’re speaking my language, brother.” We traded war stories over the wreckage of that sandwich—him on the fine art of sourcing Nebraska beef from ranchers who still castrate their own stock, me on the horrors of Vegas buffets—and by the end, it felt less like lunch and more like forging a pact with the wild gods of the heartland. But don’t sleep on the John Popper sandwich, oh no—that’s the crown jewel, a towering monument to excess wrapped in bacon and blues riffs, stuffed with pulled pork, coleslaw, and enough heat to make your sinuses sing like a harmonica in a hurricane. Named after that wheezing wizard of the woodwind, it’s the kind of meal that leaves you gasping, enlightened, and slightly unhinged, pondering the meaning of life between bites. Pair it with one from their drink selection, which plunges deeper than a politician’s offshore account: craft IPAs that taste like they were brewed in a silo by moonshiners, whiskeys aged in forgotten bunkers, and cocktails so inventive they’ll rewrite your DNA. I lost count after the third—something involving rye, bitters, and a dash of prairie fire that blurred the line between salvation and sin. The bar itself? Cool as a snake’s belly in a hailstorm—dim-lit with mismatched stools scarred from a thousand bar fights that never quite happened, walls plastered in faded posters of long-gone rodeos and rock gods, the air thick with the holy trinity of fry oil, hops, and hushed confessions. It’s the sort of place where strangers become co-conspirators over last call, where the jukebox spits out Springsteen like buckshot, and the whole damn operation hums with that rare, ragged authenticity you chase across state lines but rarely lasso. Five stars? Hell, I’d give it seven if the galaxy allowed—pure, unadulterated rocket fuel for the soul. Swing by The Other Side in Kearney, NE, before the feds shut it down for being too real. Your liver might hate you tomorrow, but your legend? It’ll thank...

Legitimately the most cutting edge live music venue in central Nebraska. I've watched multiple shows here put on by acts that most people would think were above using the restrooms in this building. If that doesn't sell you, the vast variety of refreshments will. Everything from domestic tallboys to craft beer to high end/top shelf spirits and one of a kind mixed drinks with unique ingredients. The owner himself is a lover of good scotches, bourbons and whiskeys and it shows in the offerings he has to share with his guests. The people who frequent this establishment are a mixed bag of anyone and everyone who come together to create the perfect storm of humanity and good times. The staff here can only be described as A-team: they are second to none. If you miss out on an opportunity to visit you've did yourself a...

A unique spot for Kearney, a neat music venue with a nice lounge and outdoor area upstairs. I've attended shows here and they're pretty great. I also like that they have two Yoga Classes on Sundays with the Bartending Yogi, the morning class is a $15 yoga and mimosas and the evening is a free will donation community flow. Can't wait to attend ones out the second story patio area when...