Bibi’s Big Kahunas Bar

I loved this place. One part of me can’t believe that nobody’s reviewed this place, but at the same time, based on my personal experience there, I can’t say I’m surprised either. I like to live life with the mentality that I’d like to accumulate interesting stories, and Big Kahuna’s served its purpose well in that regard while on a minor league baseball road trip.
Mother Nature had a different idea in mind for when my friend and I passed through, hoping to catch an Auburn Doubledays baseball game. Rain had started, and did not relent, and it looked like it wasn’t going to stop. The game didn’t look like it was going to occur, but given how far we had traveled, we had decided to at least wait until it was official before tucking our tails between our legs and leaving. But until that call came, we needed something to do, to kill the time — so it was time to find a bar. Big Kahuna’s showed up as the bar of choice for us, near the Doubledays’ ballpark.
The parking lot had three cars, and could probably fit like eight, tops. Since it was rainy, I didn’t really care to look around to hypothesize where others might park.
Walking into Big Kahuna’s was like a scene right out of a movie, where the bar was surrounded by regulars, and upon the arrival of two obvious out-​of-​town-​strangers, pretty much everything stopped, and all eyes were on my friend and I. Clearly, we didn’t look like we had any genuine business in a place like Auburn, New York, and their stares kind of made it obvious. The only thing that was really missing was the music stopping, but BK’s has one of those newer digital jukeboxes, and I’m pretty sure a hipcheck isn’t going to stop one of those from blasting Taylor Swift.
Naturally the bartender, being the smart business person, broke the levity of the situation and greeted us regardless. She almost didn’t take my Georgia driver’s license, but I reminded her of all the white hairs on my head kind of said that I was ten years past my 21^st birthday. So the drinking began.
The interior is really divey with wood floors, and crap all over the walls. Christmas lights and dart boards, with pool tables, and bar stools all still upside down, as the prime business hours had yet to begin upon our visit. But if I were local, I’d imagine I’d like coming to a place like this regularly.
Anyway, since nobody was speaking to us outsiders, I took it upon myself to chat with the bartender a little bit. I told her that we were in town to catch a baseball game, but it didn’t look like there was much chance that it was going to happen. Periodically, I was on my phone checking the Twitter feeds of both the Doubledays as well as their local beat writer. No official word yet.
I bring up our conundrum with the bartender, and all of a sudden, she’s whipping out her phone and making some texts. She hollers at a guy down at the end of the bar, and it turns out that he’s like the treasurer of the ballclub itself. I’m perplexed for a second, but it’s one of those realizations of a small town setting in. It felt like a video game where the instructions tell you to speak to everyone, which logically doesn’t apply in the real world because who wants to speak with random strangers much less divulge actual information?
Regardless, within a few minutes and a Yuengling later, phones go off, and the game is officially called, according to the bartender. Cross-​referencing my phone, and both the team and beat writer haven’t made a peep yet. But it was good enough for me. We paid our tabs, which I must add the beer is very well priced for pints in general, and we were off.
Five minutes later, both the Doubledays and the beat writer announced the cancellation of the game, but by then we were pretty much out of Auburn, and on our way back to the highway. It’s funny how small town life works sometimes, but I owe it to Big Kahuna’s for giving me this story.