Kam’s

Frat boy douchebag feel. Early 2000s Pop remixes. There’s a strong smell of vomit throughout the bar.

If you went there and are nostalgic for what Kam’s is, you already know you like it. For everyone else, go once to say you went, but that’s it. it smells horrible, your shoes stick to the ground, there’s broken glass everywhere that they don’t clean up, it’s wall to wall people: so basically a huge fire hazard. Basically it’s a college bar, so if you like that kind of thing, go for it.

Want to drink shitty drinks whilst standing in 2 inches of an odd mix of water, mild, urine, and vomit? Look no further than Kams.

By far the worst bar I have ever been to. The smell of vomit can be described as nothing less than an assault on the olfactory sense. IF you can brave the stench and reach the bar, be prepared to be waited on the most minimally trained bartenders to ever earn the title. Not only can they not make a drink, it takes them ten minutes to mess it up. Absolutely horrifying experience, please for the love of God, do not subject yourself to the horror that is Kams

Leading psychologists say that smells ring bells*. My bells were ringing hard last night when I went to KAMS because those smells filled my nostrils with visions of joy and wonder from my childhood.
There is a popular drink served at this pub called the «Blue Boy.» It is tasty and good and sweet to the tongue. It dulls all the bad senses and electrifies the good ones. It instills confidence where there was none, and reinvigorates the soul.
Now, that being said, utopias such as KAMS can become dystopias if you aren’t careful. For one, avoid the basement around the end of October, because it can get pretty scary down there with all the halloween decorations. However when it’s not halloween, the basement can be a heaven away from the heaven upstairs.
One suggestion is to start serving food. A Blue Boy sandwich, now that is something.
*

Five dollar cover? Are you joking?
This place is a hellhole and a sorry excuse for a classic college dive bar.

I think I first went to Kams about 30+ years ago and when I made my most recent visit this past weekend with my niece for «Dad’s Weekend» all of the memories came rushing back with that first hit of vinegar & piss that assualts your nose as soon as you make it around the corner.
Inside, same sticky floor and river of piss in the men’s room, despite the early hour (suspect leftovers from previous night).
Still, it is an institution and if you can score a «Blue Guy» from the bar and handle the ear-​splitting volume of a dozen crate speakers, you’ll have a synapse-​snapping memory of your first college bar.
Anybody expecting better from a campus bar missed their exit…3 hours north near Evanston…

If I had one night with someone in Champaign, someone from someplace far-​far-​away, one night to be a gentle soul’s Virgil, no … Beatrice, yes… Beatrice, as he explores the graceful, yet sublime, spheres of heaven, our trek, our ascension would end here. KAMS is the Empyrean of Champaign life. Simply put, to experience KAMS is to be enveloped in all that is good, all that is beautiful, and most importantly everything that makes no sense to an ordinary human at all.

What an absolute dump.
Everyone who goes to Kams is underage. More likely to see a high schooler in Kams than a 21+ individual.
There’s nothing redeeming about Kams — music is terrible but loud, food’s poor, beers are bad, and worst of all floors are infamously covered in some gelatinous sticky muck from spilled beers and god knows what else.