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Siberia
50 @ Broadway (1,9 station)
Disneyland
Manhattan
The North Pole! The novelty of descending into a train station in order to drink at a bar is ample reason for experiencing Siberia. This small dive, however, answers The Call beautifully, with two jukes, one of which is superb (the other, standard cheese-factor), some pinball (poorly located, unfortunately), reasonable prices, nooks and crannies (no offense, Thomas), a diverse and friendly crowd. Kittlings, if the stretch north seems daunting, imagine yourself as Robert Walton. [The back room is enormous, with plenty of room to lounge around on squishy furniture, and from time to time there are shows there.] { PK1 11/16/99: Siberia, the location of my first blind-date some 4-5 years ago. Though we weren't the one(s) for each other we drank there the entire night till close. We were locked in behind full grating while they blast-cleaned the station outside, danced for several hours to the excellent box, and talked with just about everyone from the widely mixed crowd. Though i have yet to make it back, i hear it is still as fun. The novelty alone is worth at least one visit. plus i was told by the owner that the name results from the fact that the space was in fact a KGB store-room [cell along an underground railroad for agents leaving the country, no?] back in the day.} [research_31701] [Let us join in prayer: Please, God, don't let Siberia ever clean itself up and get popular.] [Siberia is still going strong with its disarming and charming mix, everyone from horny investment bankers to passed-out punk rockers freely intermingling amid the double-juke-plus-PB superbar action flux! People dancing on the couches politely make room for those on their way to the W.C. On their way down to the train drunken couples swing through to use the instant photobooth in the back room.] [Sometimes the volume of the box is a little much for the tiny groups who are keeping to themselves. My favorite bathroom graffito: 'Siberia + Friday nights = slumming yuppies.'] [Then again, from time to time, when The Call comes clean through, ain't nothing like sittin' in front of a big-ass speaker and drainin' a brew. (Fix the pinball machine, yo!)] [!] { gray-Neo and e-Lux 9/17/00: crowd's a lot younger than we expected but hey, at least everyone's having a good time dancing around and knocking stuff over...what's cool about Siberia is you can go sofa style in the back room and watch the craziness or you can chill in the little bit louder front bar area. Whatever. the fact that Siberia's in a subway station is sooo excellent!} [! Observe: "Skanky-Chic Club Siberia Owner, Westmoreland, Takes On Mitsubishi."] { Cassandra 4/26/01: A perfect hideout for vagrants, wanderers, dirty people trying to escape the horrors of midtown. This is a wonderful dirty hole in the 1/9 subway station wall with disgusting bathrooms and good music. You can't really talk in here so just drink and do naughty things. I got the royal treatment the first time I was in here because I bonded with the bouncer over out identical cell phones. Viva Siberia!}

Bar Code
Broadway @ ?
Disneyland
Manhattan
[A two-floor, 24/7 video game emporium in an escalator-entranced environment that makes Life seem classy, the unfortunately named Bar Code is expensive and freaky. End of story? Not quite, for where else are you permitted to get good and tanked between—well, now I can't remember what I played, but I do recall climbing into some kind of pod with PK1: he drove, I gunned, we won.]

Collins Bar
46 @ 8
Disneyland
Manhattan
{ Eclipse the Gum 1/18/01: Another place L***** works, therefore a cathedral to tipplers.}

Club 44
8 @ 44
Disneyland
Manhattan
{ Eclipse the Gum 1/17/01: This is what one MIGHT call a go-go bar, mainly because the women/dancers start with a 3% clothing to skin ratio and it stays that way. (So, there's none of that ooh-yuck that goes on at strip clubs, i.e., butthole winking.) They sit next to you at the bar and solicit coctails and champagne for themselves. But, they're from all over the world and generally quite conversant in a wide range of topics; last visit produced gems on Italian wines, surfing in South Africa and French films. So, basically you pay $40 bucks to drink Buds, see scantily clad women and have a great conversation, which is the same as every other club...except you get to have a great conversation. Also of note: the oily handprints on the bar-length mirror that never go away.}

Jimmy's Corner
44, 6/7
Disneyland
Manhattan
Jimmy's: see under future novel. Jimmy's begs for an explicit formulation of what any review always and ever says, when you dig down to the bottom line, which is tautological. Jimmy's is Jimmy's. It's the best bar in Disneyland, hands down, and although I can hardly even feign objectivity in this case [he writes as if that were the point here -SYborg], it will remind you, every time, that The City consists of people and not simply of buildings and spaces. What should remain uppermost in your mind as you peel the label off that Bud and stare into the enormous mirror is that the tender isn't in the least attractive. [Years after my stint as a regular, the staff is still happy to see me when I make it there. This is testament to the quality of the bar.] [Jimmy's, my mentor, O, Jimmy's...I don't know what to say. I have good reason for staying away: I moved down, and the climb up to Midtown is steep and studded with altimeters. You'll forgive me, won't you? (I confess that there is another reason, your willingness to forgive and forget, to give me the benefit of the doubt until I get unambiguously drunk.) And you'll forgive me too for tooling a cliché. Some bars f*** you, it's true, but Jimmy's, you're the kind of bar that makes sweet love to my liver. Sentimental education.] [Jimmy's may not be the cheapest or the cleanest, and it's definitely not hip, but the service is a wonderful combination of friendly and professional, helpful and efficient, personal and brisk—like the best of The City itself.] { namenskid 4/22/01: I got KO in Jimmy's Corner. And it felt good.} { Cassandra 4/26/01: I love this place. I have come here in various moods, from a post classical Persian music headlock to a post ass ripping from my boss and it always does the trick. The gritty service rocks and it's a decidedly unhip sports bar that doesn't give me penis envy or scary macho vibes. And you can get kicked out by Jimmy himself.} [I miss the old awning, green not blue, but Jimmy's will be around long enough for the new one to wear in too. For the price of a drink at Pravda I get beer, whiskey, and a compliment on my shirt. Ahhh...] [Because M***** was tending (and I hadn't seen her behind the bar in a long, long time), because I don't know, because the old man next to me loved jazz and had a lot of singles, because from time to time I become Drunk Guy, because I'm nearly unemployed, because my glass was refilled every time I turned around, because the other guy next to me sat through my rant about the INS prison on Hudson, because of that huge photo of Jimmy Glen and Muhammed Ali, float like a butterfly..., because it was Wednesday,—I became (nostalgia strikes again) $45 poorer.]

Bistro 43
43, 6/7
Disneyland
Manhattan
{ Jakeed 10/14/00: bistro ha more like the Best Western of bar restaurants which I've never really understood I mean is it a bar or a restaurant whatever but hola! what service I must have stood there for 10 minutes staring at this all black clad dude flipping his 80s Kevin Bacon hair and I start daydreaming that my impatience makes me so heavy that I'm sinking into the floor which is good because maybe if I tilt the floor enough he'll roll down here to serve me my drink and what  is that on the stereo anyway?! it's dreadful!}

Manhattan Chile Company
43, 6/7
Disneyland
Manhattan
Do you want to experience what one might call a Midtown Secretary Bar?

Paramount
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Disneyland
Manhattan
Yep, a hotel lounge, so pack your Visa/MasterCard/AmEx. If you score one of the tables arranged in an enormous ring overlooking the central lobby, you win. The service can be a little tedious, but the drinks are, by and large, delicious. [What, I wonder, while struggling to think against the monotony of the "house" music being piped in at elevator volume (and still it's interfering with conversation), could be better than sitting in a suit and tie amid this hall of mirrors? keeping score, an intricate game of glances, eyes lowered then up to you again, the substitutions and slow convolutions of the sexes, a hatchet on every chair, and through the double-sided bar, just visible below the rows of hanging glasses, that amazing staircase rising, inanimate, the players of the game; at last, reflected gigantic beside the man at the other urinal, I shake out an answer: many, many things.]

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