Welcome to the twilight zone and what might be the biggest dive in the entire city — hands down. Smack dab in the middle of Midtown East lay the biggest anomaly to come about since Euro Disney. How does this dump survive in the land of the suit? Is that old man in the booth in the corner dead, or just sleeping? Why is there a half eaten birthday cake sliding off the table and onto the floor? And for that matter, why is Floyd celebrating the date of his birth in a shithole that makes any East Village bar look like The Plaza? Granted, the drinks are amazingly cheap, the locals are too drunk to bother you and the glasses look like they may have been run under a faucet in this century. P.S. — just for fun, ask the surly (and we do mean surly) bartender what kind of beer they have on tap. [MF]
143 E. 60th St.
212/223-8929
