There is apparently a whole mess of stuff going on at this bar that I had no idea about. They claim to have like twenty-two floors of fun, but we were forced to hang out only on the first, as there were private parties going on upstairs. Who has a private party on a Wednesday night? I’d like to meet those people! Anyway, looking at their website, you’d believe this is the coolest place on the planet, and not some faux-Irish pub in the middle of one of the most heavily trafficked tourist spots in the city. Not that a bunch of gray-haired, rosy-cheeked white dudes in knee socks and fannypacks doesn’t make your establishment cool, but… Something just rings false with this joint. You can’t manufacture ambiance, and loud, bullshit techno music certainly doesn’t help the molecules arrange themselves in any hip kind of manner. I’d love to get a peek at one of the upstairs rooms, which look way more comfortable and cozy than the main space, but odds are those photos on the site are either fabrications, or only accessible when you throw down extra clams to sequester yourself away from the general riff-raff. Otherwise, this place serves beer, serves some bar food, and serves as yet another cookie-cutter, after-work bar with less personality than your average Wal-Mart. [MF]
795 8th Ave.