The Bar Harbour


Upper East Side, living-with-mommy-spending-daddy’s-credit card-kids are scary. Imagine if a couple of these kids got a “loan” from mom and dad to open a sickening boating vacation-themed bar, and it all turned out to be a big party for preppy, rich kids and their ilk. I haven’t been this scared (or is it scarred?) since I accidentally walked into a lesbian biker bar in Saugus, CA. The vapid bartenders in their rolled-sleeve Oxfords and khakis made me want to check my calendar to see if I had fallen into a wormhole and been beamed back to 1991. My portable EEG machine’s needle didn’t even jump when I asked to slip the suction cups to one of their soft skulls. Maybe their brains were scrambled by the high-volume, Spring break music they crank to deafening levels. For the millionth time: their is no correlation between the number of decibels and the fun being had by patrons of any establishment. The worst faux pas was when this “classy” place ran out of glasses and began serving their swill in weak, plastic cups. Nice job, frat kids. We’ve been in this weird, split-level space through several incarnations and this is possibly the worst one yet. We can only assume that it will soon follow its former 1470 1st Avenue brethren, Beacon Hill Ale House, Canyon Road, and Mongo’s Bar into oblivion. [MF]

1470 1st Ave.