If not for the bowling-lane-length bar decorated with Tiffany light boxes and then stocked with every schnapps and liqueur known to man, this spacious dive would resemble a college cafeteria. (It’s certainly lit like one.) But the folks ordering corned beef and cabbage, roast turkey with stuffing, or plain old knackwurst at the deli counter are more likely to belong to the Fraternal Order of Police than Delta Lambda Phi. Seated at a communal Formica table or glued to the Pick-4 monitor, each character here — as the firefighter posters and the mural of the long-lost Twin Towers imply — has probably seen better days. When the MP3 jukebox turns silent, the glug of the Jäger dispenser on the bar can be downright spooky.
Picnics with a view, roller-skating nostalgia, and a party for gay headbangers.