On the Town

Where do you go when the week ends and the freedom of two days where waking up hung-over isn’t the end of the world? You go out. You go to a bar or club or a small restaurant for drinks. The destination is affixed to your current mood and company and may even be transitory, but it’s anywhere but work and that’s good enough for your tastes on a Friday night.

You’ll go to Art Bar if you want the happy hour 2 for 1 and need a place to lounge. You’ll go to Lotus if you want to get pushed into drunken nineteen year olds with fake ID’s. You’ll go to the White Horse Tavern if you want some history and more menu options than McSorley’s (but you’ll end up at McSorley’s). You’ll go to the Gowanus Yacht Club if the weather is nice and its trivia night. You’ll go to the Patriot if you want to see a girl in her underwear breathe fire. You’ll go to The Comedy Cellar if you want to laugh or Caroline’s if you want to laugh and go broke. You’ll go to Minnow if you’re in Park Slope, Floyds if you’re on Atlantic Avenue or the Brooklyn Social Club if you’re in Cobble Hill. You’ll go to Blondie’s if you want wings, Donavan’s if you want burgers and Peter McManus if you want the most disgusting looking (and tasting) bratwurst, complete with bacon, cheese and sauerkraut. You’ll go to St. Andrews if you want fine scotch, the Whiskey Ward if you want bourbon and Porkey’s if you want to drink out of a fishbowl. You’ll go to The Blue Note for jazz, The Bitter End for rock and if you can travel back in time (or to Las Vegas) you’ll be at CBGB’s if you want real punk. You’ll go to Chumley’s if you can find it or know someone to ask. You’ll go to Josie Woods if you’re from NYU and you’re already wasted. You’ll go to Down the Hatch if you want to hang out with frat boys and play Beirut while the girls check their drinks for roofies. You’ll go to the Riviera to watch the Red Sox, Cousin’s to watch the Yankees, Stan’s to watch the Mets and the Hairy Monk to see Liverpool win the Champions League cup and to fight the crazy fans that will bite, kick and flail with enthusiasm over the tremendous victory.

And if you’re tired or lazy and have nothing better to do, you’ll go to the bar called Bar at the end of my street. The pints are cheap, the company is quiet and the lighting is dark enough that you can wallow and not be noticed by the other drunks also trying to forget their work week. Sometimes they have cartoons on.