When you first get to New York you disdain Midtown bars, and not without good reason. They are expensive, ugly, dull-beered, covered in televisions, caked in a phony Irish.
After you’re in New York for a while you start to like Midtown bars, or at least I do, I shouldn’t speak for you. They are filled with schlubs and penny-ante lotharios, with forty-something middle-managers trying to get drunk enough to fuck each other, with legit sports dopes, with earnest hipsters of lesser cities (St. Louis? Wichita?) who clearly have no idea where it is they’re supposed to go.
These people are much more compelling than the Brooklyn shithead cadre into which it’s too easy to seal yourself, because these people are the last true dum-dums in all of Manhattan. They’re precious at this point. It is amazing that you are allowed to touch them and talk to them.
This bar is at 55th and 5th and everyone inside of it laughs like a horse.
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