2am-6pm; $3 beer, $4 well
N, Q at Astoria-Ditmars Blvd.
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It’s a bit disconcerting that a 40-minute N-train ride gets you all the way from midtown to Astoria’s McCann’s—this extremely welcoming neighborhood pub belongs in the rural Midwest, not within spitting distance of the East River. Twenty plasmas are embedded amidst the front room’s Flintstones-rock-tile décor, where HBO’s Saturday-night fights are a big draw; on Sundays, the crowd gravitates to the back room’s pool tables, free until 5pm. Red hand-painted letters quote famous Irish writers and revolutionaries (including Oscar Wilde’s oft repeated maxim, “Work is the curse of the drinking class”). Knickknacks abound throughout—a cabinet of dart fins and points, for sale behind the bar; and a dusty, forlorn, and ever-growing collection of lost caps lining an alcove shelf space.
Picnics with a view, roller-skating nostalgia, and a party for gay headbangers.