| (714) 632-0045 |
- Price Per Domestic Pitcher: $9
- Credit/Debit: Yes
- Parking: Public Lot
- Good For Groups: Yes
- Music: Internet Jukebox
- Best Nights: Fri, Sat
- Has TV: Yes
- Smoking: Outside, No drinks
- Alcohol: Full Bar
- ATM: No
The Bar: The first thing we noticed, coming in to this place, is that it was unbelievably bright, which only helped to highlight the fact that the floor was entirely constructed of unfinished concrete and masking tape. That would have been fine if it seemed to be under construction, but there were no signs of work. Just laziness. There were three flat screen TVs all set to the same game, so we had no choice but to watch our beloved Angels lose. After the game, all three went to the Olympics. There was an internet jukebox available, but it was pretty much fully occupied by a couple of old dudes, neither of which would take any responsibility for the Rihanna blaring through the low quality speakers. Moving on to the other side of the bar, in a separate room, it was dark, stinky, and doing awful karaoke that was not even remotely entertaining.
The Crowd: Our first encounter was with a woman who's name escapes me that was just a wee bit too friendly for our level of sobriety. However, she did buy us our first round, and that we definitely appreciate that, always. Everyone else though was pretty much engaged in their own little worlds and weren't very open to meeting new strangers. Many people were not interested in being photographed either. The crowd was a tad older than we usually run around with, and that was reflected in the social interactions.
Service: As we stood at the bar to order our first round, the bartender was engaged in an apparently deep conversation with one of the locals. Too deep, in fact, to notice that we were there to drink. Standing for a few minutes, Dave decided to pull out his credit card, and using her super psychic money vision, the bartender blindly grabs for the card, and sets it on the back counter, without so much as a how-do-ya-do. When we expressed the slightest bit of annoyance at this, she turned and asked what we wanted, begrudgingly granting us our two tall boys of PBR. Those were then paid for by the woman we met outside. Still no sign of the card. Oh well.
Prices: On the bright side, drinks were pretty cheap by Southern California standards. $4 for those PBR tall boys that we love, and $9 bucks for a domestic pitcher. The downside was that the draft beer tasted sour like it's been running through dirty lines. Time to flush that shit out and clean it up guys.
Entertainment: Internet Jukebox, Karaoke, couple of TV's, Pool table and dart board.
Restroom: The restroom on the brighter side was clean enough for a dive, and about as big as a broom closet. It was also the only bathroom on that side, used by both sexes, which really, no one wants. The bathroom on the other side was hot, humid, and smelled like shit. So basically, it was a microcosm of Hemet.
Bartender Chat: There was no real chat with either bartender, except the one who wanted to make damn well sure that we didn't ever take her picture. They weren't interested in small chat or what we were doing there.
Closing statement: We stayed a while, musing about how we get to write our first bad review, when the most exciting part of our visit here started. Cops were everywhere. Apparently, somebody got beaten up outside the Del Taco that shares a parking lot with the joint, and the cops were on the hunt. Helicopters, gang units, the works. We got questioned a bit, and a pack of badges made their way through the bar, making everyone a little uncomfortable. After all that died down, things went back to pure boredom. Deciding we'd help the place out, we invited some of our friends to try and "fun the joint up." Regrettably, this bar was beyond even our friends awesomeness and we all decided to bail.
We rate Rio a 1 out of 5.
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