CLOSING NOTE: I can’t believe, after reading about this joint’s closing, that it had opened 15 years before. I was living less than a block away when they first threw the meat on the barbeque and that sweet, sweet smell wafted through my open window. I believe I literally raced my roommate down the five flights of stairs to get a seat at the bar. Fifteen fucking years. R.I.P. Bait Shack 2012.
“Decor straight out of Cooter’s wet dreams,” claims one drunk NC State fan. Loosely based on my biggest fuckin’ nightmare, Brother Jimmy’s Bait Shack tries to recreate the feel of drinking sewer beer in a run down Charlotte slum — and succeeds with flying colors, complete with drunk assholes, half-retarded women and bartenders whose brains are smaller than their baby-t’s. Round this out with loud spring break music, blowing whistles and pouring green shots from the bar, and you have what amounts to an OK time. [MF]