Merle’s Food and Drink
Quick Stats
Town: Emerald
Carded?: Oh yes
Drinks: Bud Light, Whiskey Sour,
Sprite with Lemon
Bartender: Sweet
Would we go back: Definitely
It started out as all adventures of this nature should – spontaneously. The moment was right, the feeling was good, and we decided that it was the night to kick-off the Great Nebraska Pub Crawl.
The next day held early mornings for all three of us, so we stayed close to Lincoln, choosing Emerald as our destination. We reached the 
unincorporated spread of buildings west on O street around 11:30PM.
Surveying the rather barren landscape, Lily asked, “Where’s the bar?”
“That’s it right there,” Katie said, pointing to a gravel lot filled with cars.
“With all those cars?”
For a minute, the thought of a busy Saturday night at a small town bar didn’t seem as enchanting or amusing as it had a few weeks ago, but the feeling quickly passed.
Katie let out a chuckle, “Oh wait. That’s a car lot.”
Oops.
One block further and we pulled into the bar’s parking lot. It was dotted with a few pickup trucks. We stood outside for awhile, wondering if the place was open, wondering if we’d mistaken a grocery store for a bar, waiting for one of us to take the lead and barge into the joint. We finally took the Budweiser open light shining brightly in the front window as a welcoming sign. Inside, the “food” part of Merle’s was tucked away for the night. Chairs were up on tables, condiments inside BudLight six-pack carriers set in random places between chair legs. There were two younger boys playing around the pool table in the back; their parents stood nearby, talking, with beer bottles in their hands.
We made our way back to the bar. The bartender glanced over at our trio and then reluctantly made her way over to our side of the long, wooden bar. She gave no suspicious looks, simply asked for our orders in typical bartender fashion, and then requested to see our I.D.’s. Lily ordered a BudLight draw, Amy went for a whiskey sour, Katie received her Sprite with lemon on the house.
We sat at the end of the bar, a little giddy, discussing our situation, with Carrie Underwood crooning in the background at a moderate volume. The bartender offered us an ash tray, letting us know that it was the last night for smoking at Merle’s.
Lily let out a groan. “I don’t know how people drink this stuff!” she said, referring to her “piss water.”
About a quarter to midnight, the bartender came over to let us know that a group of 32 was on its way—a wedding party migrating from the PlaMor ballroom.
“They’ll be out of here by 1:00,” she said. “I’ve got a long way to drive tonight.”
Just before 12:00, some young cowboys walked in from the back door; they were shortly followed by more couples: girls in short, fancy dresses and some guys in suits but most deck out in jeans and cowboy boots. Within minutes, the volume of the music doubled and voices were raised to talk over it. Apparently a favorite song came on and all of them sang along. One of the suited guys, shirt halfway untucked, lifted himself on top of the pool table and moved in a way that looked like dancing.
“That’s one of our regulars,” said the bartender, who happened to be close by at the time. She watched him for awhile and smirked. “He always brings the party with him.” Her smirk turned into a smile and she made her way back to the middle of the bar to continue helping the young crowd.
We left around 12:30 in search of some greasy post-drinking junk food and stopped at D'Leons, oh so conveniently located on West O on our way back to town.
This is the place for you if...
you like country.
