Have you ever been to one of those places where it just smells like a fight is brewing? Maybe it’s the thirty guys crowded around the bar ogling the three secretaries in short skirts — or maybe it’s the smell of cheap cologne and tequila. Well, whatever it is at this place, if you’re looking to get socked in the face by some gold-chain wearing Guido or pent-up midtown mock-turtleneck dude, then this is your kind of place. Of course, if you’re just looking for some good (and very potent) frozen margaritas, sidle up to the bar and take your chances. [MF]
160 E 38th St.