Here at Heavy, we believe in giving you the tools to survive in this harsh world. We’re responsible like that. We have already gone over what to do in case of an encounter with that degenerate named Bigfoot, but there is something even scarier than that beast patrolling our nation’s hills and forests. Yes, that’s right, the American Redneck is everywhere, and even though I am sure that you are all fine upstanding individuals, there will be times in every man’s life when he finds himself in one of their strongholds desperate for a drink. The fabled Redneck Bar is not to be taken lightly, and if you are going to escape with your life, you must heed these words.
I can’t stress this enough. The American Redneck is a prideful beast and he will take this as a challenge. You don’t want to get into a fight with a man who spends his days wrestling cows and powerlifting steel beams, and sometimes wrestling steel beams and powerlifting cows to mix it up. You just don’t.
If you accidentally do make eye contact, your initial instinct will be to run. Don’t. This will be seen as a sign of weakness and you will likely be cornholed silly in a bathroom stall that’s missing a door so that everyone can watch your humiliation. Instead, just give a quick head nod and go about your business. Hopefully, the beast will be in a good mood and you will be allowed to live.
Do not order a foreign beer. I cannot stress this enough. Make sure that you only order something domestic. And not a microbrew. This will get you labeled as a Communist or French and then it’s cornhole city. I would suggest something wholesome and thoroughly American. Perhaps a Miller Genuine Draft or Milwaukee’s Best. And get it in a bottle, not a glass. Drinking from a glass is seen as pretentious. A final word of warning on the subject: you may think that you are blending in by order a Pabst Blue Ribbon, but you will immediately be outed as a hipster and will likely spend the rest of the night as a slave to Billy Bob and Joe Willy.
I know she looks cute and she keeps smiling at you, but this is what the wise ancients called entrapment. She wants you to hit on her so that her half man/half bear boyfriend will maul you with one of those plastic Big Buck Hunter rifles. They will then go have sex out back behind the dumpster while you whimper and bleed on the floor and the other rednecks spit chaw on you.
No pool or darts or any other game, no matter how good you think you are. It doesn’t matter what the outcome is, it will be bad for you. Either you lose, in which case you are seen as weak and in need of a good toughening up via an ass kicking or worse, you win, in which case you are seen as an arrogant city boy. One “You think you’re better than me, boy?” and a couple of well placed punches later and you’re in whatever veterinary clinic these people call a hospital.
It doesn’t matter whether you are a complete idiot and think that everyone will appreciate a little Kanye or whether you think you are being smart and blending in by putting on some Johnny Cash. Either way, you will just be seen as trying to impose your elitist Commie loving values upon those good, honest hard-working folk. If you do go down the Kanye road, well, you pretty much know what you’re getting into there. If you choose the path of Cash, you may think you are extending an olive branch but you will just be accused of making fun of them and will likely end up with your head in the toilet and a plunger stuck up your ass.
This is a trap. No matter what you say, you will be regarded with extreme suspicion and will likely end up hogtied and dragged around town behind an old truck with flame decals on the side. You might think that there is a way out of this, that you can be clever and just spout a bunch of gibberish about Republicans and guns and God, but there is no way out. That’s because the American Redneck distrusts all politics and all politicians, no matter the issue and no matter the position.
Do not try to strike up a conversation with the bartender. You may think he is the only potential ally or friend you have in the place because he begrudgingly gave you your beer, but do not be fooled. This is a man who spends every day riding herd on a bunch of wild American Rednecks. This is the last man you want to mess with. He is a hardened badass and he has no time for your fey little nonsense. Go ahead and try to discuss the weather with him. I’m sure you won’t mind a pistol whipping.
If the bartender is a woman, just run like hell. Ignore the previous advice about not running. Your only chance, slim as it may be, is to get to your car and drive like you just stole the thing. Everyone knows that the Female American Redneck is even more deadly than the Male American Redneck. They may appear softer and more docile, but they are the only thing the Male American Redneck fears. If this is the sort of place that requires a Female American Redneck to put the fear of God in those beasts, then you know that it is way too wild a place for you.
If, by the end of the night, you have managed to successfully avoid all of the above perils, congratulations, you have almost survived. But you’re not there yet. Now, you must pay the bill. Use cash. I mean it. If you try to pay with a credit card, there is a decent chance that you will be accused by someone in the bar of being a slave to Big Brother. The last thing you want is to make it to the end of the night only to slip up at the end and make a bunch of drunk American Rednecks afraid that you are spying on them on behalf of the government. This will go poorly for you. I suggest taking a wad of bills out, tossing them on the bar and getting the hell out of there. Sure, you may have overpaid, but you can’t put a price on your life.