World’s sleaziest bar

Oct 25th
Posted by shambo  as Booze, fishing, Sleazy bars

Stewart at The End of the World
Stewart at The End of the World

[AUTHOR’S NOTE:  This post is the first of five in this week’s miniseries on the ‘World’s Sleaziest Bars’.]

Let me say this about that.

I love sleazy bars.  The people you meet in sleazy bars are unemcumbered by any pretension which allows you to immediately find the soul of a place.  There are many classic sleazy bars around the world, although most of the really great ones are outside the U.S.  My favorite is in the tiny village of Alicetown, on the island of North Bimini in the Bahamas, called The End of the World Saloon. 

The End of the World can generously be described as a ‘dump’.  It’s basically a small waterfront shack whose ‘bar’ is a large wooden ship’s door, stretched across two rum barrels.  Chloe, the bartender, is a jolly…    350 pound Bahamian woman that defines ‘laid-back’.  The bar has no A/C but the place stays cool, thanks to a sea breeeze blowing into an opening in the back wall, through to an opening in the front wall.   The End of the World has no real doors.  Large pieces of plywood are nailed over the front and rear openings when they close the place.  In addition to Chloe, the other ‘regulars’ consists of the ‘town dogs’, who come in and lie on the sand floor to escape the midday Bahamian heat.  No one is quite sure who the dogs belong to.

I have been to The End of the World many times but one occasion stands out.  Four of us couples took a sea plane from Miami to Bimini for a weekend of debauchery.  As usual, the first place we hit on arrival was The End of the World.  As we approached the entrance, a large disleveled drunk, with a freaking rag mop on his head, blocked my way.  I learned later his name was Stewart.

Stewart:  “This is my bar and you can’t come in.”

Shambo:  “Just hold on there Scooter.  If you don’t get out of my face, I’m gonna take that rag mop off your head and shove it up your ass.”

Stewart:  “It is my birthday, and this is my bar and you can’t come in.”

Shambo:  “Oh, I’m coming in the bar and if you don’t want this to be your last birthday, you better get outta my way.”

I figured as long as I had three guys backing me up and Stewart didn’t have a platoon of Marines inside to rip our heads off, I could do my Chuck Norris act and get away with it.

Stewart:  “Tell you what I’m gonna do.  I’ll let you all in, but since it’s my birthday, you’re not allowed to pay for anything.”

Stewart instantly became my best friend and we drank like sailors for the rest of the afternoon.  When we were ready to leave, Stewart reached into his pocket and gave Chloe a fistfull of Bahamian bills without bothering to count.  I felt kind of bad because it was obvious Stewart was a bum and we probably just spent his life savings.  But hey, I’m no angel either.

Stewart followed us out of the bar and started insisting that he show us his boat.  Yeah, right.  He kept on and on about this boat, so we figured he bought us drinks all afternoon, the least we could do is go look at some garbage scow.  But as we were walking down the dock of this really upscale marina, we spotted this magnificent 72 foot sports fishing yacht with a couple of guys and four gorgeous women waving at Stewart.  As we climbed onboard, drinks were served and our wives were offered a tour of this sports fishing yacht.  Stewart called it a “fishing boat”, but the damn thing had a grand piano in the main salon.

I got to talking to one of Stewart’s friends on the boat and confirmed the boat REALLY was Stewart’s.  I asked him if one of the bikinied hotties was Stewarts wife.  His friend said no, they were hookers that Stewart had flown in on his jet for the celebration.

Shambo:  “You mean for his birthday?”

Stewart’s friend:  “No.  I just bought Stewart’s company for $84 million and we decided to have a little party to celebrate.”

So, the moral of this story is:  The next time you are in a sleazy bar and you meet a guy with a rag mop on his head ……… just what IS the moral of this story?

And, that’s all have to say about that.




  1. Arb git  21st February 2024  

    thanks you so mush

  2. Wayne Dobson  27th February 2015  

    I spent many shore-leaves there in ’95. We left a few undies on the ceiling and a large fan for the window(they needed it more than we)!

  3. Emily  16th December 2013  

    I was on vacation on a Blackbeards dive trip. We of course went to the End of the World. I was drinking and flirting with one of the divemasters from our boat. I noticed one of the other people from our trip watching me. A bit more drinking, ended up dancing with him, kissing him, etc. Eventually ended up marrying him. It is our 16 anniversary next month. Will never forget that is the first place we kissed.

  4. Jill dunphy  9th August 2013  

    I do not care what you call it! When I got there they were(inland for a wedding, so for 2 days the bar was not open! Snorkeling was! When they came back they made you feel like family! You can’t beat that anywhere in the world! Keep writing on the wallss! Best Conch salad EVER!

  5. Capt. Boatsmoky  26th March 2012  

    Last time I was in that dive, it was Crazy Greg’s End of the World Saloon. It was about 1979 and we just cleared customs. The “Thunderchild” was tied up at the Big Game dock and we were thirsty. I started on the first of many Goombay Smashes that day. The bartender was a dead ringer for “Chloie”, maybe her daughter, who knows. She was happy to trade Goombay smashes for fresh vegatables because the hurricane had either delayed or sunk the produce barge. About the last thing I remember was getting hoisted to the ceiling to write our epitah. “And the Thunderchild vanished forever, taking with her man’s last hope”. I woke up in the head, resting on a bilge sponge muttering, “I’ve been poisoned”

  6. RumShopRyan  18th April 2011  

    Great story! True, you can never judge a book by its cover. That’s true of both Steward and the End of the World Bar…and most Caribbean beach bars for that matter. Thanks for sharing your Bimini tales.

    Looking forward to visiting soon.

  7. shambo  3rd November 2009  

    Do you have a brother named Greg?

  8. David Rose  3rd November 2009  

    I am just about positive I know that flute player. His name is Mike Dubua (spelling not sure) he was a good friend of my older brother. Jesus looking guy running around Cocoa Beach playing Jethro Tull on the flute it had to be him.


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