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Between the neon beer sign in the front window and the 3 a.m. closing time on weekends, it’s not hard to peg the patrons at this hole-in-the-wall. Stumbling, liquor-filled partiers are known to line up for a slice of whichever pies remain behind the counter, and though beer goggles may be the only excuse for ordering the “fresh” basil pesto, there are less worrisome options: Sicilian-style pepperoni topped with sausage crumbles; crunchy thin-crust loaded with spicy chicken; and, of course, the ubiquitous, toppings-free cheese. But even these reheated alternatives have only the faintest traces of sauce. Not that the boisterous guests planted on the duct-taped stools and leaned up against the peeling, mint-green walls mind. For them, scarfing down just about any folded slice and some greasy garlic knots hits the spot—even if they won’t remember it the next morning. — Lauren Berger