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Slide down the wheelchair ramp into the subterranean Sly Fox, improbably buried in the Ukrainian National Home, for a reminder of those not-so-memorable trips to Bratislava, Kiev, or Minsk. Run by a hardened Polish woman for decades, the bare-bones bar closed down in 2004 only to re-open again with a new owner and a new look meant to evoke a cozy home in the hinterlands of Eastern Europe. The mirrored ceiling, floral-pattered booths above which candle-lit lanterns ooze an orange glow, and the Euro-pop that regularly thumps from the stereo vaguely recalls a porn set, presumably to the delight of the frat boys who invade after 10pm on any given night to take advantage of the reasonably priced Slovakian beer. In the early evening, however, a couple of old drunks nursing glasses of Ukrainian vodka are likely to be your only competition for the ear of the bartender. — David Farley