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Hugs is huge. Like, airplane-hanger huge. The cavern's arched, cracked-plaster ceiling is supported by black-and-white smeared columns and is lit by a soft, pink-neon glow, giving it a cool, postindustrial feel. A long bar runs down nearly the entire length of the place, all the way down to the leather booths lurking in dim lighting. The owners—the same consortium that owns the Abbey, Alligator Lounge, and Crocodile Lounge—pull out some of their old tricks: A rec room has Skee-Ball, Big Buck Hunter, and a photo booth. The rotating U.N.I.T.Y. party rallies the nostalgic for early-nineties jams (who can resist “Push It”?); the rest of the time, resident D.J. Carrie Whitenoise, along with a rotating cast of hipster hip-hop types (tight jeans, big Jordans) take you back to the future. — Ben Lebeaux