The Kerry House — affectionately known as the Scary House —
is one of the few dives left on Piedmont Avenue. The bar is long, dim,
and claustrophobic, with many years worth of bric-a-brac and newspaper
articles on the walls. A murder of old crows and wise men perch at the
bar, determined not to give up their barstools to any young ruffians
who wander in. And like the beer-polished bar, one veteran bartender is
long, tall, and thin, and he sports both a waistcoat and laconic
attitude. Sorely used red pool tables lurk at the rear, which is where
the youthful punks and hipsters congregate. Few dare go up upstairs.
The upper drinking rooms have a dark presence, and even though they're
well lit, nervous Blair-Witch-Project-like thoughts flit through the
mind. Flee downstairs, drink several beers or something stronger, and
then nip into the Kerry House Raj Indian Cuisine restaurant in the next
storefront, through the swinging doors. One does not even have to
stumble out into the street to get there. 'Tis a British expat's idea
of heaven: a pub and curry house right door to each other.