You don’t get any more Irish than this place. Complete with potato-faced waitresses, a bartender that looks at you funny when you order Bud Light and falling-on-their-face drunks everywhere you look, this is the surly businessman’s dream bar. Surrounded by midtown law firms and the like, happy hour is filled with a gaggle of suit-guys with their ties at half-mast and their cell phones on lock. The dark wood and low lighting does provide a nice atmosphere for chugging Guinness, but doesn’t exactly inspire alertness and fun. Be warned: were you to fall asleep at one of the tables, you might not be discovered until morning. [MF]
975 2nd Ave.