Have you ever had the feeling you’ve been somewhere before, despite the fact you know you’ve never even seen the place? So goes the bar and grill they call Opal. It’s so familiar, you’d swear you’ve visited this nightmare over and over again. And of course you have — midtown yuppie hell. Packed with dudes you hated in high school and college, it’s a blue- shirted onslaught of UES and Jersey professionals gathered to ogle their tight, black-panted counterparts. Don’t be surprised if you feel the need to string up one of the patrons by her matching sweater-set or tell the guy at the end of the bar to quit sucking in his gut and playing with his Palm Pilot, but do be surprised if you don’t overhear the hordes planning to go next door to Turtle Bay for a nightcap. [MF]
251 E 52nd St.