 |
You know that bizarre
bike messenger? You know, the one who shows up in your office wearing
Hefty bags when it's raining, a suit made of tin foil when it's sunny,
and the permanent look of an angry Hamas terrorist every other day?
Well, now we know where he hangs out when he's done shouting at cabbies,
threatening tourists and stinking up your lobby. It's not to say that
the desk jockey isn't welcomed into Mona's, but venture into the deep,
dark recesses of the back of the bar, and you are likely to come upon
the united brotherhood of freakish bike jockeys in all their tattooed
and face-pierced glory. Mona (if there is such a person) doesn't even
seem to mind the fact they bring their horses into the bar. Oh, did
we mention that Mona's is a straight up dive? The place is only lit
by candles (not in a lounge sense, but more of a "we don't really
live here, we're just squatting" sense) and the bathroom is hands
down the worst in the city. The jukebox is packed with punk, indie
rock and early Euro stuff, which makes most of us happy, but might
keep away the vanilla Hootie/Dave Matthews crowd (boo-f'n-hoo). This
isn't the kind of place you want to be wearing your plain-front khakis
(or shoes you care about for that matter), but it is actually a cool,
friendly place to go that is devoid of pretension, cheap and in the
true spirit of the lower East side. [MF]
|
Hipster Movie Reviews
Hipster Book Reviews
Music