[Note: This version of JRB closed, but it still exists at this location, but as a way classier-looking joint under the same name.]
For some reason this place reminds me of the depressing New Year’s eve bar scene from Forrest Gump, or some other awfully sad scene where the lead character is sitting amongst wet streamers and deflated balloons, with a watered-down drink and a bedraggled hooker/psychiatrist asking him to tell her his troubles. All that’s missing is a foul-mouthed, legless Vietnam vet and a “slow” Tom Hanks lookin’ motherfucker in a short-sleeve, plaid button-up. Okay, it’s not as bad as all that, but there is a certain feeling of sadness about this joint that works its way into your soul and makes it ache to be anywhere else. Sorry, it’s been one of those days. [MF]
38 W 56th St.