The 25 Douchiest Bars in New Orleans

In a city known worldwide for its partying prowess, it's only natural to have some of the best, most beloved bars on the planet. Whether you're into gritty punk clubs, old-school dives, craft cocktail spots, or raucous live music joints, New Orleans has every type of bar imaginable. But in a city that's particularly famous for the iconic cliche of young, wasted women flashing complete strangers for plastic beads, it's also going to attract every type of douchebag imaginable.

At one time or another, you're going to wind up getting loaded in NOLA. Be it a wedding, bachelor party, Mardi Gras, Super Bowl, or your basic weekend bender, New Orleans is on your agenda even if you don't even know it yet. Be prepared. With so many boozing options, it's easy to fall prey to the advice of the opinionated and over-friendly locals. If the person giving you tips sets off even the slightest blip on your douche radar, there's a 99% chance the spot he's hyping is not where you want to be.

Bookmark this page on your phone. Commit it to memory. Use it as your shield against the tyranny of the New Orleans douche.

These are The 25 Douchiest Bars in New Orleans. Avoid them at all costs.

RELATED: The 25 Douchiest Bars in New York, Boston, Los Angeles, Chicago, Philadelphia, Austin, and Washington D.C.

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25. The Bulldog

Address: 3236 Magazine St.
Website: bulldog.draftfreak.com

As beer lovers, it was a tough call to lump the Bulldog into this group, but the great beer selection and decent bar food can't overcome the crowd, who are now getting their douche on at not one, but two different locations. Take off-duty cops, wealthy rednecks, and creepy former college football players still mistaking their past glory for their present life of hollow hubris. Throw in packs of hungry maneaters rocking their best (or should we say, worst) BeBe ensemble with cheap heels, and the persona barometer is firmly in the red. As one tool recently said when asked why he goes there: "High heels and low self esteem—my kinda girls." This is probably why some people don't believe in evolution.

24. Dos Jefe's Uptown Cigar Bar

Address: 5535 Tchoupitoulas St.
Website: dosjefescigarbar.com

The cigar bar is not just played out, it attracts some of the worst kinds of people years after the concept ceased to have any cachet. For some unfathomable reason, Dos Jefe's has managed to remain open for over a decade, proving that the Power Douche is alive and well in NOLA. Men who think it's cool to sit in a room and mouth a stinking, phallic stick of tobacco deserve each other, as well as a place to enjoy their pathetic pastime. Actually, we should be thankful for Dos Jefe's. It's nice to have a venue like this that corrals these tools in one place, so the rest of us don't have to go home smelling like a middle-aged stockbroker.

23. Rick's Cabaret

Address: 315 Bourbon St.
Website: iknowrick.com

New Orleans has a different relationship with strip clubs than most cities. Whereas most towns (except Las Vegas, of course) see them as a spot to hit for a bachelor party, birthday, or finalizing a divorce, bros in NOLA see them simply as places to grab a drink and look as some bare "breastesses." The Tourist breed of capital-D Douche is a given here, but what makes Rick's stand out from the countless strip clubs on Bourbon is the local rich boy crowd and their off-the-charts sense of entitlement. Picture overweight and balding assclowns holding court in or near the VIP room, throwing their family's inheritance at dancers straight out of a southern Mississippi trailer park (or someone's Hollywood version of same). The fact that the aforementioned clownus assuses are rocking a Rolex and know the doormen by name only serves to inflate their overblown self worth, making Rick's a haven for the type of (sub-)human who just left Dos Jefe's.

22. Barcadia

Address: 601 Tchoupitoulas St.
Website: barcadianeworleans.com/

One of the signature characteristics of the douche genus is a tendency to act like an overgrown manchild. Whether it's petulant behavior when they don't get their way or the need for constant attention, the douche will often revert to his childhood self. So, when a bar opens in an insufferable neighborhood and its website's homepage reads "Inner child, meet BARCADIA" you know it's fucked. Touting "50's pin-up girls on the walls, the Cure playing in the background, JENGA made out of 2x4's on the patio, and an entire wall of '80s ARCADE GAMES...", Barcadia would seem to occupy its own special ring of hell. We don't know who other than the worst of the worst would hang there, except maybe, given the chance, their children. Even then, they'd probably find it abhorrent. We'd rather go to Chuck E. Cheese. At least there, infantile antics aren't fueled by skunked tap beer. We're sure that "Boys Don't Cry" is the most commonly heard Cure track at this douche playpen. The Cure? Really?

21. Jackson Brewery Bistro Bar

Address: 620 Decatur St.
Website: jacksonbrewerybar.com/

What the hell is a "bistro bar" anyway? Coming from a crew of Baton Rouge imports who couldn't resist the urge to bring their unique brand of cheese to NOLA, this schizophrenic joint can't figure out what it is (restaurant? club? bar?) and in turn, the crowd can't figure out how not to be awful. Mutant frat boys who seem to spawn and multiply hourly make asses of themselves attempting to groove to incompetent DJs trying to mix Top 40, hip-hop, and bounce, all while thinking they're balling because they have a martini glass and a garnished plate of second-rate seafood in front of them. Need more proof? Flat screen TVs at the urinals. Enough said.

20. The Three Muses

Address: 536 Frenchmen St.
Website: threemusesnola.com/

For decades, Frenchmen Street was considered the anti-Bourbon Street. Small music clubs with tasteful decor and music-savvy crowds made it an oasis within walking distance of the French Quarter's most notoriously cheesy thoroughfare. Although a few old-school bars have managed to maintain their cool (d.b.a., The Spotted Cat), several newcomers have attracted a brand of douche who think that by frequenting the street, they are masking their inherent douchiness. The Three Muses and their hype machine have only made it that much more attractive to hipster tourist douches looking for an authentic New Orleans experience. Trying to be "authentic" as hard as they do (one of the owners goes by the moniker "X-topher") creates a room full of sheep who visited Williamsburg in 2006, still wear the same clothes they bought on that trip, and think they've been published if they write a review on Yelp.

19. The Howlin' Wolf

Address: 907 S Peters St.
Website: thehowlinwolf.com

There's a strange phenomenon in New Orleans when it comes to music. Great local acts like the Rebirth Brass Band play all over the city in small, intimate dives that deliver an experience found nowhere else. Subsequently, the same bands have to make a living, so they'll play a larger place to pay the bills. The result is a bizarre scene where musical legends are rocking the shit out of a venue in front of a sea of douchebags. Thus, we present to you the Howlin' Wolf. We have it on authority that the amount of booze and other substances needed for serious musicians to get on stage and perform here without laughing into their trombones is prodigious. Unlike the majority of D-haunts in NOLA, it's at least a multi-racial, multi-aged mix, providing the cultural anthropologist with a habitat to observe a buffet of douchebaggery up close.

18. Pat O'Brien's

Address: 718 St. Peter St.
Website: patobriens.com/patobriens/neworleans/

Their "famous" Hurricane cocktail tastes like complete shit, and only serves to get this crowd exponentially more fucked up than they should be. And it ain't because they're underage. Because they're not underage. They're usually very much of age. Very much of age. Imagine pleated khaki-wearing junior law partners from all across the country, bellying up to the piano bar singing "Brown Eyed Girl" while linking arms with their bros and holding back the vomit from the sugary awfulness of the drink that put the bar on the map. Hint: If they sell the mix of a bar's signature drink at tacky t-shirt shops on Bourbon Street, the actual place where it is made and served should probably be avoided at all costs.

17. Bridge Lounge

Address: 1201 Magazine St
Website: bridgeloungenola.com

Attempting to pick up women by buying a puppy and wandering the streets is about as crass as it gets. Imagine bringing that dog to a bar to get laid. Disturbing, yes. The Bridge Lounge not only allows this nonsense to occur, but uses the dog-friendly theme as a selling point. Add to that "trivia night," where drunk goons attempt to impress by yelling out answers to inane questions while drinking next to those slobbering mutts, and you have one of the most bizarre and sanitarily questionable scenes in douchedom. And no, the dogs—at least, the canine ones—are not the unsanitary part.

16. Fat Harry's

Address: 4330 St Charles Ave.
Website: N/A

When considering the name of this inexplicably popular bar, images of polo-clad ex-fratboys wearing jeans with flip-flops and sporting sunglasses hanging from their neck on foam lanyards come to mind. And guess what? Those images? They're dead-on. Every southern city has one (or unfortunately, more than one) bar where Ole Miss, L.S.U., Auburn, and/or 'Bama grads congregate to perpetuate their alma mater's academic legacy (or lack thereof). This is NOLA's offering. Stop by during college football Saturdays and marvel at how heterosexual men can bring themselves to not only order, but drink "Sex On The Beach" shots, and then go home to rip bong hits while watching their hero Michael J. Fox in The Secret of My Success. Do.Not.Want.

15. Monkey Hill Bar

Address: 6100 Magazine St.
Website: monkeyhillbar.com

Fitting the Uptown neighborhood like a glove, Monkey Hill attracts the typical middle-of-the-road douchebag who can't quite figure out if he's more post-college or pre-adult. The result is a crowd that appears to have coordinated the same requisite un-tucked long sleeve button down, bad square-toed leather kicks, and boot-cut jeans look that would have looked good on Jimi Hendrix, and only Jimi Hendrix. Masquerading as an "upscale" lounge, Monkey Hill features groups of douches in their late twenties roaming the bar like predators, playing wingman to their bros whose idea of a good pick-up line is something swiped from a Judd Apatow movie. The only problem is that these Monkeys are too dumb to realize that Apatow was joking.

14. The Sazerac Bar

Address: 123 Baronne St.
Website: therooseveltneworleans.com/dining/sazerac-restaurant

Another hotel bar that manages to bring in hordes of douches both local and visiting, the Sazerac Bar has the ingredients for a cool spot, but somehow manages to shit the bed when it comes to cultivating the crowd to match. The main flaw is laying claim to the best Sazerac in town (a claim that better be backed up in this city), which is impossible, since it takes their bartenders fifteen minutes to make one, rendering the resulting libation lukewarm and suitable only for palates better suited for Shirley Temples. Just as egregious is the mix of second-rate financiers, Internet "entrepreneurs," and lawyers and the hangers-on who love them, which creates a confusing dichotomy between the sexy surroundings and the un-sexy crowd. New Orleans is full of joints that make douches feel as though they're doing it up fancy, but the ill-fitting cheap suit gang found here will leave you and your wallet feeling all too empty.

13. Lucy's Retired Surfer Bar

Address: 701 Tchoupitoulas St.
Website: lucysretiredsurfers.com

Lucy's is the quintessential awful neighborhood-awful bar. The young and too-manicured professional, the moneyed, divorced now-bachelor, the suburbanite coming into the city, bro, to party—you name it, they're here, crushing vodka and energy drinks out of plastic cups, impressing ex-sorority sisters with creatine-fueled tales of general douchebaggery, all while shooting Jäger bombs faster than alcohol-poisoned Tulane Pikes on a mission to the ER. 2007's Top 40 R&B and hip-hop interspersed with as much Journey as you can stomach equals the most excruciating gathering of humanity in town. Uninvite yourself in advance.

12. The Gold Mine

Address: 705 Dauphine St.
Website: goldminesaloon.net

If in the year 2013 your bar is famous for the flaming Dr. Pepper shot and the more-than-likely chance that a wasted douchebag will rub his erection on you, then you should just pack it in and relocate to Panama City, Florida. You have to wonder how this shitshow of a bar isn't located on Bourbon Street. After further thought, Bourbon Street is too classy for the Gold Mine. Overpriced drinks with tip included and a cover charge only add insult to injury for any fool unfortunate enough to be dragged here. If it does happen, plan on a long shower afterward to wash off the sweat, smoke, and ambient STD you picked up from the barstools.

11. Bouligny Tavern

Address: 3641 Magazine St.
Website: boulignytavern.com

Is there such a thing as a female douchebag? A "douchebaguette" perhaps? If so, this is their hang. Male douches flock to this uptown lounge to position themselves within uncomfortable staring distance of well-heeled ladies who lunch, local television personalities with cake batter makeup, and tired broads spending their alimony checks trolling for a rich second husband (or easy lay). Marry that scene with cooler-than-thou bartenders and an aging proprietor who sports a hipster douche porn 'stache, and you have a symbiotic relationship of douchiness worthy of a poorly written Rihanna song.

10. Happy's

Address: 1009 Poydras St.
Website: happysirishpub.com

When Baton Rouge experienced a population boom in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, several bar owners were hit with a blast of business that padded their bank accounts. Instead of enjoying their prosperity in their college enclave, they got drunk on their newfound riches and decided to bring their not-so-unique brand of douchiness to New Orleans. Taking their cue from a chain of wing joints named after large breasts that are so douchey they deserve their own category, Happy's ups the douche ante by featuring waitresses in short schoolgirl plaid skirts and breast-baring white tops. Young and old 'bags cram the space before and after Saints and Hornets games to watch these future pole dancers climb ladders to grab bottles, providing drunk horndogs with the chance look up their skirts. Truly a pervert's paradise that should have stayed an hour up Interstate 10.

9. Walk Ons

Address: 1009 Poydras St.
Website: walk-ons.com

Yet another import from Baton Rouge, this bar is named after athletes not good enough to earn college scholarships, who still make the team but never see any action. The douche quotient of the patrons echoes this sentiment perfectly as bros who aspire to pull women who are eights, nines, and tens end up preying on drunk twos, threes, and fours with little or no luck. The true definition of a sausage fest, Walk Ons is a mass of un-cool bros bonding over bad beer and cheap booze, perfectly echoing their website claim as "a culmination of many years of ideas, hopes and dreams...combined with a team spirit and camaraderie." Sounds...fun?

8. F&M Patio Bar (Uptown)

Address: 4841 Tchoupitoulas St.
Website: fandmpatiobar.com

Each night, this longtime favorite of khaki-clad power tools explodes into a cataclysmic black hole of douchebaggery. The level of alcohol consumption, coupled with a fire code smashing amount of douchebags who have yet to learn how to hold their liquor, make this one of the douchiest bars on the planet. The show outside is almost as mind-boggling as the shit show inside. Think multiple cop cars waiting to nab anyone behind the wheel within a six-block radius, bros high-fiving and wrestling while their girlfriends puke on their shoes, and couples off of their asses on Coors Light and flavored vodkas arguing violently. Oh, and groping random women is apparently not only allowed, but seems to be encouraged. Good times indeed.

7. Ampersand

Address: 1100 Tulane Ave.
Website: clubampersand.com

The day (or night if you will) of the dance club is thankfully starting to slowly commit suicide. Still there are a few of the breed hanging onto their alterna-douche scene for dear life. If you're in NOLA and have a taste (or lack thereof) for skull-cracking electronic music, Miami-style shirtless grinding, hipster douchebags off of their ass on blow, and proprietors with balding mullets, then this is your spot. Remember the Chris Rock stand-up bit about the old guy up in the club? You'll find him and fifty of his friends here giving the younger douchebags a glimpse of their sad future.

6. Annex

Address: 7600 Maple St.
Website: N/A

If you walk into a bar where a steroid-fueled doorman electronically scans your ID at the door you're just asking for it. College-aged douchebags mix with just-out-of-college douchebags and douchebags-who-think-they're-still-in-college, creating a douche gumbo that will give you the worst possible case of the shits. Park yourself at the bar and take in the new ambience created by none other than the reality TV show "Bar Rescue." The show gamely tried to re-brand the dump as "Annex," which is comparable to trying to give mouth-to-mouth to someone who's been dead for two weeks. After one drink here, you'll quickly want to run screaming for the door. Alas, you'll be left sobbing helplessly where you are because your feet will be invariably stuck to the floor.

5. Parlays Dream Lounge

Address: 870 Harrison Ave.
Website: parlaysbar.net/history

Yes, the brilliant marketers of this douche-fest managed to come up with the clever tagline "Come and get Parlaid!" Nestled in the family-friendly and nondescript Lakeview neighborhood, Parlays has a knack for appealing to the nondescript douchebag neighbors who come to watch sports, slam Jager bombs, bro hug more than the Sons Of Anarchy, and drunk drive only a few blocks to their douche pad. Their claim to fame is having the longest bar in New Orleans. Why is that significant? Because they can hold more douches at the bar than any other. Congratulations dudes.

4. Loa

Address: 221 Camp St.
Website: ihhotel.com/bar.html

Hotel bars have forever been magnets for douches and this CBD (Central Business District) boutique hotel lounge pulls in both NOLA's "elite" and traveling 'bags in droves. By disguising the room as a "mixology" lounge, Loa tries to signify that its clientele may have more cash than the average douche, but all of the designer knock-off Banana Republic duds and hair gel in the world can't give it the coolness factor it thinks it deserves. Platinum AMEX cards and skinny-fat chicks who are "in PR" make this one of the most loathsome places to down a $14 concoction shaken by a crew of cocktologists.

3. Razzoo

Address: 511 Bourbon St
Website: razzoo.com

Razzoo is No. 3 on our list, but check the pics on its website of world-class douchebags throwing up the No. 1 sign to see how the utterly disgusting patrons of this joint view their kingdom of cheese. Billed as "The #1 Place To Party On Bourbon Street" tells you all you need to know. Already-plastered douches cram into this hell hole for the three-for-one "happy" hour, ultimately ending up inebriated enough to grind on sloppy skanks while the house "band" cranks out painful versions of Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, and Sublime tracks. If that's anyone's idea of happy, we're all doomed. Pass the Xanax, please.

2. The District

Address: 711 Tchoupitoulas St.
Website: districtnola.com

Aptly named for the doucheiest neighborhood in New Orleans, this Warehouse District spot is of, by, and for the uber-douche. The creators of this classless cliche of a bar nailed all the elements that speak directly to the douche: blaring Top 40, $5 domestic brews in plastic cups, pro athletes acting like entitled demigods, and chicks with the IQ of a swamp donkey getting white girl wasted. The irony is thick here as the powers that be have positioned it as an "upscale" venue. Apparently their version of upscale is an Ed Hardy T-shirt, Rock & Republic jeans, and chilled shots of Patron. Keep it classy bros.

1. Saints and Sinners

Address: 627 Bourbon St.
Website: saintsandsinnersnola.com

S and S owner Channing Tatum claims to be from New Orleans. If that's really true (and we hear it isn't), he must hate his hometown more than the bros hated Magic Mike. This Bourbon Street douche magnet loves a theme night like a stripper loves the Super Bowl being in town. From "Madam Mondays" to "Ladies Night Thursdays" to "Red Light Fridays," local and visiting douches alike flock to this weak re-creation of a brothel for even weaker drinks with creative names like "Silk Panties," "Sex on the Balcony," and "Red Hottie Velvet Cake" (Channing's favorite). If you need more proof of the douchiness level, please do the world a favor and shoot yourself in the face immediately.