The furniture carries the theme. Beyond a classic bottle cap table (impressive as it is), the beach theme is played up with the tip of a ship oriented to look like it’s crashing into the dive bar emerging from one of the walls. And it sits under a stained-glass lamp, covered with graffiti, the type of Tampa dive bar decoration that serves as one of many examples of how Mahuffer’s ups the game.
Out back (yes, we’re not done yet) sits a bit of a land of forgotten toys, including things like piled-up lumber, a broken arrow light-up sign, a handful of discarded signs and so many layers of “stuff” that it would take an archeological dig to get to the bottom of the mystery of the Mahuffer’s backyard. And I could keep going. There’s a half of a boat in the front yard, there’s some impressive neon signage, we found a Hocus Pocus-themed painting, even the bathroom divider between urinals is some kind of corrugated plastic. The place is wild. A dive bar seed was planted somewhere in Indian Shores, Florida, and over the eons, Mahuffer’s grew up. That’s the feel of the place. It’s as organic a dive bar space as I’ve ever visited.
And, at the end of the night, I was charged $13 for a handful of drinks.
There is no stronger recommendation on this site, in this review, in my life, than to recommend a visit to Mahuffer’s. It’s worth a drive across the Tampa causeway, hell, it’s worth a flight to Tampa in the first place. And it’s worth a Monet-style treatment, as no doubt the intense labyrinth that is Mahuffer’s reveals new and different layers in spring, in summer, in daytime, at night. Bring a handful of dollar bills to add to the ambiance and, worry not, Mahuffer’s keeps a staple gun behind the bar.