Las Vegas Weekly

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Before Friday, everything I knew about biker bars came from movies. So as I drove to Mr. D’s on Rainbow and Oakey, I assumed my night would end with a brawl. I assumed I’d accidentally take somebody’s seat at the bar or accidentally knock down a motorcycle, causing the rest to fall like dominoes. And then, I assumed, I’d pay the price.

I arrived and counted 19 bikes out front—some as big as Buicks, some as small as Schwinns. Then I walked in to meet my friend V. She’s not a biker either, but she could probably pass for one.

On the karaoke stage, a man sang Willie Nelson’s version of “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.” That man looked just like Willie Nelson.

“He’s an impersonator,” a white-bearded biker said. And he—the guy who told me the singer worked as a Willie impersonator—looked just like Santa Claus. (A third, who didn’t resemble anyone, confirmed that the second does work as Santa Claus at Christmas.)

The non-look-alikes were dressed in leather, bandanas, tie-dye and Harley-Davidson logos. And they were big. Wouldn’t want to fight any of them, including the old guys. But they were lovely, too. Lots of smiles and pleasantries.

“What’s your take?” I asked V. “It reminds me of back home,” she said. V is from Alaska. So there are your two new biker bar stereotypes: They’ve all got Alaskan vibes, and they’re all filled with celebrity look-alikes.