B, D, F, M, N, Q, R at 34th St.-Herald Sq.; 1, 2, 3 at 34th St.-Penn Station
American Express, Discover, MasterCard, Visa
Mark Jack Demsey’s (no p, thanks) as another solidly uninspiring entry in that common Midtown bar type: the faceless, spotless, all-but-nameless drunk tank disguised as an olde worlde Irish pub. All key elements make their appearance: flat-screens airing every major sporting event from every conceivable angle; fries and wings spanning the two-toned flavor rainbow; DeNiro, Pacino and the Bambino mugging over beer-mirrored walls for a heavy tourist contingent; and a nightly shouting match between patrons grown louder with each passing hour. Demsey’s does, however, offer a few light flourishes to distinguish itself from the competition: Its basement pool room serves as a place of calm respite, a rear restaurant seating section boasts a rustic faux fireplace and a just-so-crooked bookshelf, and Irish breakfasts wait for those who like their Euro football in real time.
Picnics with a view, roller-skating nostalgia, and a party for gay headbangers.