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Those living within a Park Slope stereotype of imposing stroller traffic and yippie-yoga-spot overgrowth and yearning for the gruffer borough of yore will, with luck, always have Old Carriage Inn. Its awning lovingly dotted with droppings, its barmaids skilled in the art of the scowl, and its interior filled with Mets banners, domestic brew-themed mirrors, and more inflatable Bud promos than you can shake a wobbly cane at, Old Carriage is a haven for the decidedly un-hip—here, whitebeards in American-flag tees and moms in denim jackets and eighties hair rule. For true fun, Saturday’s girl-strong karaoke jam comes complete with a gender-neutral emcee and uniformed squads undeterred by their tendency to expel notes of the hideously flat variety. Complainers continue to clog every Slope-themed blog with tales of public breast-feeding and merciless line-jumping matrons, but the Inn remains a testament to the hood’s less-polished past. — Patrick Coffee