I grew up in Erie, Pennsylvania... on the center of one of the lengths of the rusty, isosceles triangle formed by Buffalo, Cleveland, and Pittsburgh... so if you know anything about this area of the country, you'll understand that about 90% of the bars there are dive bars by the modern definition of the term.
Though their numbers are dwindling or transforming with their neighborhood to straight-up sketchy dens full of inhabitants looking for one form of trouble or another, there are still plenty of places that are worth the trip and will be happy to have you drink the 75 cent PBR drafts (not ironically), use the 1960s-era condom machine on the wall of the bathroom and its metal trough to piss in, and bone the resident Pall Mall-scented cougar on the constant prowl for fresh meat and a cold Coors Light.