Swedetown Pub

The Scene
In a ramshackle building standing on about an acre of bare dirt on north Beck Street, Swedetown Pub looks salt-worn, as if the building were rescued from the set of Popeye. Inside is an unremarkable beer bar with pool tables and dart machines, but it has a decidedly menacing atmosphere. This is not the sort of place you're likely to wander into accidentally, looking for directions or hoping to run into the restroom and plug the condom machine. In fact, if you came to harm in Swedetown on a Saturday night, you could expect little sympathy from local law enforcement. The fact that you walked in there at all would suggest a degree of complicity with your attackers; and if you do accidentally walk in, stand on a chair, cup your hands around your mouth, and belt out a Ricola yodel. The patrons of Swedetown are genuine Swedish railroad workers who probably have a very interesting story to tell of how they came from one isolated frozen culture to another, and how they subsequently came to rule a bar in North Salt Lake, but they're as likely to slap your head with a pool cue as they are to tell their story.