Thursday, November 4th, 2010—Bar 298

Day 298—Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010
Molly Wee Pub (Originally Headed For Harrington's Bar & Grill)
Yesterday I got an email from someone I met on the bar crawl back in May. I went to the Mug Lounge on May 21st and had a nice conversation with the gentlemen seated next to me. His name is Handel and we had a nice talk at the bar. Well, today Handel sent me an email asking if I had heard that Ruby’s Coney Island Bar is being forced to close by the asshole powers that be at Coney Island. I had heard the sad news from the Grub Street blog the other day. It really sucks, not only are they going to get of Ruby’s, nine other businesses on the Board Walk aren’t getting their leases renewed either. Grub Street has renamed Coney Island, Phoney Island. I thought, “Well, that’s it, another great place gone” and thought there was nothing I could do about it. Well, after reading Handel’s email, I realized there is something that not only I can do, but so can you. There’s a petition out to keep it alive and they’re trying to get at least 10,000 names on it. It literally takes about two minutes and if you’re reading this, would you please click here and sign the petition: Petition to keep Ruby’s Coney Island Bar alive. Thanks and thanks to Handel for the hat tip on the petition. I’ll keep you informed and here’s a link about Ruby’s and the rally they are planning: Amusing The Zillion.

Okay, on to bar business. Today was my first day back to work and I’m here to prove that karma does indeed exist, because tonight it kicked my motherfucking ass to the ground. Last Monday I tauntingly wrote the following words: “Are you at work right now? Too bad for you, because I've got the day off! So I slept in...” I’ll never brag about having the day off again, tonight was a nightmare, rush jobs and a lot of work. It’s a little after two in the morning and I’m just now getting out of here. I was out late last night and had to get up early, so I was hoping for an easy night, but no such fucking luck. Luckily there’s that stretch of bars just a block from where I work. As I’ve written about all of them before, they’re all just pretty much your standard, ordinary bars, they all have one thing that appeals to me on a night like this: They’re all about two minutes away. Let’s go before I collapse.

This is the last bar on the strip that I haven't gone to. It's kind of a generic bar, but I called them about an hour ago and they said they were open until 4am. So let's go get this thing over.

There's just one little problem though, it's closed. Motherfucker! I called and they said they'd be open. You know, I don't mind if you bill yourself as a four o'clock bar and close early because it's slow, but if someone calls have the fucking courtesy to say you're not going to be open. What an asshole bar this place is. Fuck them, they look like a retarded Applebees anyway. Luckily I know of another bar right down the block, let's hope this place is open or I could be searching for awhile. Oh...FUCK YOU HARRINGTONS! You monkey-fucker of a bar, you!

Ahhh, the lights are on at the Molly Wee. Too-rah-loo-rah-loo-rah!

And there's a decent crowd in here for this early Thursday morning. My kind of people!

Paul was the friendly bartender on duty who not only posed in action behind the bar...

He came around to the other side to have a picture taken with the lovely Adriana and Andre who were visiting New York from Brazil. I told them there were many followers of the 365 blog in Brazil, so it was nice to feature them here.

And not to be outdone, I posed with the Brazillian couple as well. Hey, what's that white dot on my forehead?

Wooden tables and chairs line the wall opposite the bar.

Uh, Molly Wee? Halloween's over, time to trade those pumpkins in for turkeys or something else.

A different kind of wearin' of the Guinness.

Here's Andy, Kendall and Joe who were seated next to me at the bar. They wished me well on the 365 journey.

Here's a shot of the bar from the opposite end. Let's go see who this guy is.

It's Jim, who was having a quick beer before getting his train back home to Long Island. He told me he had had a long day and I told him I knew how he felt.

All of a sudden this guy came in. He looked like a cross between a leperchaun and one of Santa's elves that had just escaped an alcohol intervention.

Of course since I attract freaks like a magnet, he sat next to me. He babbled in my ear, but I'm not sure what he said because he had a thick Irish accent and I think this was his 345th drink of the night. He toasted to no one, but I'm sure it didn't matter.

And then, I swear I'm not making this up, he put on every song by Abba on the jukebox and started to dance to the tunes.

Sometimes in the night things happen and you know it's not going to get any weirder than this, so you might as well just go the fuck home and get some sleep. This was one of those moments.

A quick look out the window and I'm on my way. Goodnight, everybody!

Review

Okay, I have to get back to work and hopefully the hours won’t be too bad tonight. But once again I’m running late, so I’ll post a review of the Molly Wee from New York magazine.

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If Michael Flatley sold time shares in Boca, he'd close his deals here. Back in the Dinkins era, this was a grittily authentic and scruffy Irish bar. Scrubbed down and cleaned up, much like its Penn Station surroundings, Molly Wee now sports a character so neutral that its Irish flavor seems more a corporate gimmick than a palpable identity. Bright and airy, with spotless tile floors, six noiseless TVs and a digital jukebox whispering Van Halen and Bon Jovi, Molly Wee salutes its roots with 15 tap selections covering a predictable range of big-name Irish brews like Harp, Guinness, and Bass. More Sbarro-meets-Bennigan's than Tommy Makem's, Molly Wee primarily draws a post-MSG crowd nowadays; the countless 9/11 memorial tcotchkes hanging from every shiny surface might be the most prominent reminder that you're still in New York City. — Robert Bourne

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And suddenly...work. Fuck. Sneeze you tomorrow.

Molly Wee Pub
402 Eighth Ave. (@30th St.)
212-967-2627

Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010—Bar 297

Day 297—Tuesday, November 2nd, 2010
Milady's
Okay, Aaron left today and is headed back to Chicago and tomorrow Biff and her entourage are taking off. But we’ve got one hell of a sendoff night planned. One of my favorite writers is David Sedaris and he’s appearing tonight at the legendary Apollo Theater in Harlem. And Biff not only scored tickets, she got 14th row tickets! So hopefully I can take pictures in there and document part of his show. Before the show we’re going to Sylvia’s restaurant for a delicious dinner. Then after the show we’re going to one of Biff’s favorite bars (she asked if I would wait to go there till she got here, so of course I did) Milady’s in Soho and I think we’re going to meet 365 Aussie commentator Tim Clack and his girlfriend/almost wife Shannon. Sounds like one hell of a night, huh? Well let’s go see how it turned out.

Okay, after a long cab ride, we're here uptown at Sylvia's restaurant.

Inside I'm reunited with Andrew who I met when I did the bar crawl in here. Andrew's the lead singer for the fine band Stereoboro and you can check them out on Faceook right here: Stereoboro.

Earnest was our friendly waiter for the evening.

And he took a shot of us gathered round the table. I, of course, am in full jerkoff mode.

After dinner we made our way over to the Apollo Theater for the David Sedaris show.

Here's the crowd outside waiting to get in. I wish I could show you photos from the inside and from the show, but they have lots of rules for taking photos inside. Some of them include that you have to be wearing two left wingtipped shoes, you have to have been born in the month of March and in the year 1937 with a mole on your left butt cheek and you need to have a tattoo of Jacob Fuchsberg located somewhere near your right ankle. It was just too confusing for me, so I guess if you want to see the inside of the Apollo and photos from a David Sedaris show, I suggest that you get your own fucking tickets! Okay, I feel better. The show was great, thanks for the ticket, Bifferoonie! And now, it's off to the bar.

And by the magic of the internet, here we are at Milady's bar.

Some of the nightly food specials are listed outside on this sign.

It's kind of crowded in here, I wonder if 365 commentator Tim "Clacky" Clack is in the house?

And as I amble up to the bar, here he is in all his one-fingered saluting glory! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, Tim Clack!

So I order up a round from the lovely bartender Alyce...

And deliver them to our table. From left: The aforementioned Tim Clack, Shannon, Janie, Biff and Paul. And now I had to depart to go do my 365 thing.

There's tables opposite the bar for drinking and dining.

And there's a pool table at the end of the bar.

And here's the man who's shot I ruined with my flash, Eric with the lovely Suzanne.

A neon sign hangs over the bar.

Here's a list of the beers available at the bar.

Here's Tim posing with our waitress Simone, who's smile lit up our table.

And I can't let Clacky have all the fun, here's me and Simone. Simone was really cool and a great waitress.

Meanwhile back at the bar, Alyce is taking care of business.

Noel and Joshua were chilling out at the end of the bar.

And the parting shot from Milady's. To Biff and her crew! Have a safe trip home. And be looking for Clacky showing up along the bar crawl in the next couple of weeks, along with the Baltimore Bar Crawlers A.K.A. The BBC! Stay tuned and goodnight, everybody!

Review

Well, it’s quite a rude awakening today. It’s early, I’m hungover and I have to go back to work. The horror, the horror! I’m running late and I don’t have time to write a review, so here’s one from New York magazine, which branded Milady's as a critics pick.

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At Milady's, rent control pensioners paying $300 a month rub shoulders with yuppies paying $3,000 for the same apartment. But the only factionalism is between the dining contingent, which takes up most of the postage stamp-sized space, and drinkers clinging to the bar. The place feels like a condensed version of the pool table/jukebox/poker-machine joints that still thrive in the outer boroughs. The unavoidable TV sets switch from AMC by day to ESPN at night, as the crowd shifts from young and old to young and younger. As the evening wears on, classic rock cranks up, territorial pool regulars close ranks and you feel as if you're at a Staten Island cop bar plunked down in Soho. — Bruce Bennett

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Thanks to Biff, Paul, Aaron, Janie and Chrissy for joining me on the crawl, I had a blast! And I look forward to hoisting a few more with my Aussie mates, Tim Clack, his lovely girlfriend/wife Shannon and Colin. Cheers to you all! And suddenly...work. Fuck!

Milady's
160 Prince St. (@Thompson St.)
212-226-9340

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Bonus Urinal Photos!

Jon Hammer who along with Karen McBurnie publishes the fine Grade “A” Fancy online publication, recently attended the 100th birthday party of the giganzo urinals at Old Town Bar. I couldn’t make it, but luckily Jon did and he sent along these photos and captions. I wish I could’ve made it, but time is just whizzing by. (Rimshot.) Take it away Jon and thanks for sending in this jurinal. You and Karen need to join up on the bar crawl soon!

So the urinal celebration at Old Town was pretty packed, but I managed to snap a few pix.  Starting with the poster for the event on the door: Post-It note: Being touted as "can't miss" event.  Har!

Here are the birthday boys, festooned with balloons and flowers.

Very festive, but it was just another working day for our heroes.

Obligatory mirror in the bathroom shot.

My posse for the evening, Shane, Paul Friederike, Robert, Janie and Grade "A" Karen. There was a huge crowd, fans of both the Old Town and really big urinals, there were speeches and there was beer. All in all, a fine night to commemorate a century of leak-taking.

Tuesday, November 2nd, 2010—Bar 296

Day 296—Monday, November 1st, 2010
Cubbyhole
Okay, thanks to visiting commentator and friend, Biff, I don’t have to pick a bar tonight and I’m answering a question at the same time. The question is: “When are you going to a gay bar?” One bar that Biff wanted to hit was the Cubbyhole in the West Village which is a popular lesbian bar. Yes, that’s one of the many things that Bifferoonie and I have in common, we’re both lesbians. But I’ve also read that it’s also just a fun neighborhood bar and they welcome gays, straights, slightly curved and polygons. So that’s tonight’s destination. But first...dinner at The House!

Here we are at The House. I came here all the way back in May for a Sunday dinner.

Biff called ahead and reserved us a private banquette table in the downstairs area. Clockwise from left: Biff, Mr. Wise Guy, Paul, Janie, Chrissy and Aaron. We had a great dinner and of course a few drinks.

And speaking of drinks, here we are at tonight's destination, The Cubbyhole.

We thought it would be empty, being a Monday and the night after Halloween, but there was actually a good size crowd in here.

Here's Zak, the super-friendly bartender. He's a Pepper, wouldn't you like to be a Pepper too?

And here's Bifferoonie and I at the bar, doing what we do best, hoisting a couple beers. Cheers!

Halloween's over, but it's still raining pumpkins in here.

As we settle in, Biff gives me a patented, "Are you going to take photos of me the whole fucking night?" looks, so it's time for me to move on and get some other shots.

Here's Erin who was chilling out over by the jukebox.

A shot from the end of the bar.

Some of the drink specials at Cubbyhole.

And here's the draft beer available.

Here's Thomas and Ashley who were enjoying drinks at the bar.

An Elvis stool sample...yikes!

Yeah, you go ahead and smile Mr. Pumpkin, but tomorrow you won't be so happy when you get stuffed back in a box for a year.

Andy was the other friendly bartender on duty and here he is posing with Zak.

And the empties pile up as the night comes to a close.

And one last parting shot is had at the bar. Cheers and goodnight, everybody!

Review
The Cubbyhole has been on the block for sixteen years and while it’s known as a lesbian bar, they welcome people of all stripes and even polka dots. It’s a friendly atmosphere in a small, cozy setting. The wooden horseshoe bar takes up most of the space with a few tables and a wooden railing up front occupying the rest. The bar is usually crowded and is populated by everyone from NYU students to neighborhood regulars who have have been fixtures at the bar since it opened in 1993. There’s an overload of knick-knacks, bric-a-bracs and piñata-like festive twirly-do’s hanging from the ceiling and walls giving the joint a forever festive feel and it always is a party in this place. No wonder it was voted the best lesbian bar in 2007 by New York magazine.

There’s a full bar available at Cubbyhole and daily drink specials including: Four dollar Cosmos on Monday, two buck Margaritas on Tuesday and three dollar screwdrivers on Wednesday. You will not break the bank getting a buzz going in this joint. Sunday through Thursday Coors Light and Pabst in cans are available for three bucks from opening to closing. And if you’re not a beer drinker these drinks can be had for three bucks as well: Whiskey Sour, Rum Cocktail, Madras, Sloe Gin Fizz and Phil’s younger brother, Tom Collins.

Wednesday’s the bar has the “Wheel-O-Drinks” night where you can spin for shots, cocktails and a 30 dollar bar tab. You can also spin to be entered in a monthly raffle to win a Cannon Power Shot A495 camera and a shot at an iPad which will be raffled off at the end of the year.

Cubbyhole
281 W. 12th St. (Near Eighth Ave.)
212-243-9041

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R.I.P. Howard O’Brien, veteran bartender from Sophie’s.

I just learned via Fat Al at the Half Empty Glass and from EV Grieve that longtime bartender Howard O'Brien from Sophie’s bar has died after a battle with cancer. Mr. O’Brien wasn’t there the night I visited, but from what I’ve read he was a great bartender and all-around good guy. He was 56-years-old and will be missed at Sophie’s. R.I.P. Howard O’Brien.
Photo courtesy of EV Grieve.