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East Village institution Doc Holliday's is the anti-Manhattan watering hole. There's a crumbling mural of an Old West gunfighter outside and beer mirrors, scarred tables and hockey blaring on the television inside. The jukebox churns out classic rock and country, the pours tend toward Budweiser and Jack Daniel's and the crowd tends toward frat boys and young professional types. And, as at Hogs & Heifers and so many other local mock-redneck establishments, the barmaid occasionally will jump up on the bar and launch into some kind of Riverdance to the subtle strains of the Charlie Daniels Band. Everyone cheers as long as she doesn't block the TV. — Lissa T. Rodgers

There are many bars named Doc Holliday's around the globe: Las Vegas, Reno, Colorado, Tennessee, Germany, on one of the Carnival cruise ships. But none of them are related in any way. Go figure.