Pride’s Honky Tonk
The only honky tonk where the ‘Nosebleed Section’ is both a real row and a badge of honor for true live-music believers.
Pride’s is carved into a narrow historic building, its stage built onto a second-floor balcony so steep that the floor slopes away like a ski jump. That slope leads down to a tiny dance floor, then up again into rows labeled not A, B, C, but by distance from the stage: Front, Mid, and Nosebleed—60 rows up, near the back wall under the rafters. The view from the Nosebleed isn’t ideal for facial expressions, but the sound carries cleanly, especially when the band plays with the stage door open.
The staff know the rhythm of the crowd—when to unlock the dance floor railing at 8:15, when the fiddle solo starts to build tension, and when the bassist will cue the chorus by stepping off the monitor. If you’re in the Nosebleed, keep your eyes on the drummer’s hands—they’ll signal when the big lift happens, and the crowd always sways in unison. The windows there look out over Broadway, giving a surreal birds-eye view of the crowd below, like watching the river of light move in slow motion.
Crowds thin out as you climb, meaning less shoulder-to-shoulder pressure and more room to lean over the railing and shout along without fear of drowning out your own voice. The bar at the top is just three stools and a cooler—BYOB spirits work here since it’s not officially served—but locals know to bring their own cups and ice to share. It’s rowdy, yes, but never chaotic; the is written in foot taps and drumstick knocks.
