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This venue is closed.

There’s no pretending with this one: Say hello to a place that takes the concept of a bare-bones dive-bar to regions no bare or bone has ever dared venture. The blank white walls are decorated with televisions, a few Bob Marley posters, some dirt-spotted air conditioners, security cameras, and a Choking Victim poster, while the white-tiled floor looks like it was bred in some long-since-forsaken church basement. Meanwhile, the brown marble-top bar counter feels like you’re resting your elbows on a tomb-lid, and the line of tables along the wall, draped with cheap white tablecloths, only add to the funereal feel of the place. And though there are giant, robotic PA speakers on one end, ready to shake a decibel, and an Internet jukebox in the front ready to play what you need, it doesn’t matter: This place is really just for solitary drinking. — John Wheeler-Rappe