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Some pubs slap up some dark wood and a Guinness tap and call it quits: Others go the extra mile, or in the case of this fun-loving tavern, far enough to qualify as an Aer Lingus frequent flyer. Packed into the narrow barroom is just about every piece of kitsch that customs would allow the owners to drag back; luggage, road signs, and signed futbol jerseys hang over the elegant zinc bar. The back room—cozied up with lace curtains, Tiffany lamps, and wicker chairs—supersaturates with old postcards, photos of all the requisite playwrights, and Gaelic drinking slogans on amber sponge-painted walls. Although it’s not uncommon to find an actual expat chawing on bangers and mash at one of the four-tops, the alcove reserved for beer pong (and cheap domestic pitchers) and the weekends-only basement billiards room draw Pace and St. John’s students with sometimes less easily identifiable accents. The draft selection doesn’t discriminate either: Canadian, Italian, and Austrian beers are on tap just like Smithwicks and homegrown Biddy Brew. Just a word of warning, mate: The cheesy adult contemporary tunes may leave you craving fiddle and pipe or a chorus of “Danny Boy.” — Daniel Maurer

The kitchen stays open until 2 a.m. every night except Sunday, when it closes at midnight.