Santa's Pub — Restaurant in Nashville-Davidson

Last night, myself and a group of my friends arrived at Santa’s pub and initially made contact with the guy working the door. All of us were completely sober, used the ATM to pay the cover, and even had some out of town guests with us as we wanted to show them a Nashville staple. The guy working the door was extremely rude. My girlfriend walked up the steps about two paces ahead of me anr I had the cash to pay for her. There were 4 of us walking in and no one else on the steps at the time. The door guy first told my girlfriend to get off the porch and then continued to berate her and said that he could have had her escorted off the property if he wanted to. He told us to get in line as if there were 100 people in line and he seemed very uneasy (possibly on drugs) and was super stressed out that 4 people were walking in at the same time. I see multiple reviews about how rude he is, but the owners fails to address these reviews as he does every other review. I am 100% positive the door guy deals with very intoxicated people on a nightly basis, but we were super sober and weren’t causing a single issue. The guy was clearly on a power trip. It is unfortunate because we have enjoyed going here in the past and have never had this issue. We will not be returning and will make sure we let everyone who asks about Santa’s that we do not recommend going there as the door guy seems very...

No trip to Nashville is complete without a pilgrimage to Santa’s Pub—a dive so committed to the bit, it’s literally a double-wide trailer parked on the edge of reason and held together by prayers, duct tape, and probably a couple of rusty screws from 1973. If Toby Keith’s “I Love This Bar” was written after a bender that ended in a blackout and a mystery tattoo, this is the place he woke up in.

Walking in feels like crossing the threshold between “should I be here?” and “I’m definitely getting tetanus.” But I stayed. We all did. Why? Because the beer is cheap, the crowd is unhinged in the best way, and the karaoke? Absolutely feral.

There was a Woo Woo girl channeling her inner demon with a metal rendition of something that may have once been a country song. The gays showed up and showed out with “Man! I Feel Like a Woman,” as if Shania herself had descended from the heavens (or at least Broadway). A lone biker grabbed the mic for Blink 182, and I swear I saw a tear in his eye—whether from emotion or smoke machine residue, unclear.

At any point, I was 90% sure the floor was going to give out beneath us. It groaned with every stomp of a boot, shake of a hip, and drunken twirl to “Country Roads,” but somehow—it held. Like a proud old grandpa refusing to die before karaoke night ends.

Would I go back? Absolutely. Would I pregame with a tetanus shot next...

I have given Santa's Pub many chances now and I am officially done with this place. While I have had a great time with friends on a weekday, I have literally been singled out for the pettiest reasons. Especially by the old lady behind the bar on weekends. Case in point was just last night. After getting elbowed in the head repeatedly by a guy standing right behind my chair, I finally asked him to stop. He started to actually yell at me, so I got up just in case I had to defend myself. He also had his friends with him. As I was explaining what was happening to a decent young bar back, the old lady came over and told me to leave. No questions or inquiry into the incident of any kind. The 5 white guys and 2 girls got to stay as I (the single Latino veteran) was told to leave or they we're calling the police. There was no violence or extreme commotion of any kind mind you. So I am done. I can find a decent karaoke place to have a good time where I can actually bring a water onstage, with a smoke if I want, and actually say "Damn" onstage. Remember, there's a big sign on the stage that says, No Drinks, No Smoking, and No Cussing Onstage. That aside, I am just tired of being singled out. Once for cussing when I wasn't on the stage. And my friend was the one that actually said the cussword. And told her so. It didn't matter...