Jonathan V.
Yelp
I came here on the Thursday night before Halloweekend. I wasn't expecting a full house but at the same time I also didn't expect how many people actually had the same bright idea. I go to bars to socialize, and that night I had a decent pick of the litter (roughly 25-30 different people). The topics of conversation don't matter to me; I can wax poetic about anything from theme parks to Rosa Parks. That said, the drinks do a great job at facilitating my confidence to approach strangers, all while being quite well made. In my humble opinion, this bar captures the essence of what you would want in something "divey"--it's great if you want to just hang around all night and meet people, or if you just wanna have a few drinks with your friends before you go somewhere else in the black void we call Brooklyn, New York.
I will close with my final interaction of that night. I met a cool dude; we had very similar interests. Conversation flowed nicely, but that's not what was the most pressing matter. My active listening skills decided to take a backseat to my bodily functions. In other words, something I had eaten (presumably the lamb over rice I found in the backseat of my Uber) finally decided it was time to begin the digestion process. Inebriated, I could barely control the unconscious processes my body wanted to initiate. As I was saying my goodbye to this nice gentleman, I felt something in the lower-back region of my stone-colored chinos. It was warm, like a Grandmother's kiss. Similarly, it was warm like that one area of the local community pool where that nervous child just mysteriously swam away from. I'm talking of course about number two, folks. I caught a whiff and decided I needed to leave faster than immediately. After a bit of pushing-and-pulling I was able to relinquish myself of the conversational clutches I once facilitated. Darting to the bathroom, I had one thought--"What is my game plan if it is what I think it is?".
Thankfully, I hadn't soiled my trousers (take *that*, schadenfreude!), and I washed my hands before leaving.
Would I go back again, even after I thought I shit my pants? Sure! I just need to be more weary of the mystery foods the Uber deities bestow unto me.