Addendum [hey, things change]
It is very seldom that I am overwhelmed by drunkenness. Not my drunkenness, mind you, but the drunkenness of others. There have been times at Trinity where the sheer amount of inebriation is unbearable. Packing that many sloppy drunks into a tight, smoke-filled pub should be illegal. Actually, I’m quite sure it is illegal–but that’s another story. Just thinking about being in Trinity I actually start to get the bitter taste of Harp in the back of my throat and the incessant yapping of droopy, chain-smoking bar rat chicks in my ears. The recall sense when it comes this joint is amazingly acute. It could be because I’ve been there a ton of times, or it could be because I usually walk out of there with at least a couple funny stories about somebody doing something really fucked up. With all that, we say come late, stay late and bring your drinking shoes (but forget those goggles). We’ve seen more than one man fall prey to a Trinity Beasty. Don’t let it happen to you. [MF]
If you’re not drunk, friendly and willing to talk to all the other drunk friendly people in the bar about everything from professional body-boarding to the best technique to please your woman, you have no business being in this establishment. Although one patron did report being beaten silly after ordering a fuzzy navel at this hard drinkin’, psuedo-soccer hooligan hangout. [MF]
229 E 84th St.