Sure it’s authentic and everything (complete with Irish waitresses, wood and the stink of beer), but even authenticity can’t save some pubs from sucking. This is especially true when said Irish bar is poorly set up, too brightly lit (something that, believe it or not, is the case with a lot of pubs in Ireland) and features a crooning Irishman belting out U2 songs on a p.a. system turned up to eleven. The crowd is mostly a mixture of nerdy and creepy locals with nothing better to do with themselves. Maybe if I could hear myself think over the live music, I’d have more memory of this joint. But as it stands, any and all good will towards this place keeps being obliterated by an earnest man with a pony tail, an acoustic guitar and a song in his heart. [MF]
922 3rd Ave.