Not only does this place lay claim to NYC’s oldest working Irish man’s saloon, but also anyone who’s anyone has been through its swinging doors from Abe Lincoln and John Lennon to BarChick (it’s her favourite hangout). It’s been around since 1854 (although women have only been allowed inside since 1970 – luckily BarChick wasn’t of drinking age prior to this) and evidently nothing has changed since then.
From the outside, you feel like one of two things: 1. You’ve just left Hogwarts for a Butterbeer or 2. You wish you had remembered your leprechaun get up. Whatever your first impressions, swing open the doors into a den of beer and fun. There’s sawdust on the floor for those drunken Paddys who can’t hold a glass properly and dusty wishbones (hung by WWI soldiers who never returned to collect them). If you haven’t managed to make any new friends, old photos and ancient posters all over the walls will keep you amused for hours.
The barman will ask you a simple question - light or dark? Go for one and get your mate to go for the other, as you will in fact end up with 2 half pints each. That's just the way it's done in here. With a nod or a yell to the badass bartender the minute you’re done he’ll bring you another, and another… so if there’s a couple of you, share one of the big tables and make some friends, or settle in as a big group and be prepared for a session.