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Open French doors may beckon some parched wanderers, but don't mistake this corner spot for a cozy hideaway amidst the surrounding throng of tourist traps and NYU party bars. The 80s power ballads (and their attendant cries of heartache) are blaring out from an interior reminiscent of a suburban Sizzler. From its dusty hanging flora to its splintery wicker chairs, XR hasn't aged very gracefully over the last decade or so and most nights attracts just a few tired out-of-towners, a handful of regulars, and the occasional group of co-eds sipping Malibu Bay Breezes. In the rear, the lone homage towards modern design—low tables with even lower back-breaking stools—feel curiously reminiscent of a kindergarten classroom. — Deborah Goldberg