Great jukebox with old punk standards, bands whose members get wasted there, a bit of r&b and Fleetwood Mac and the unavoidable nod to the Buena Vista Social Club and its discographic legacy. The red and green salsas are both the most foul ever, unless you have a fetish for carbolic acid, but all the bartenders are good and pour strong drinks. Also, happy hour is a buck off whatever, except food, and who needs food at that time of night anyway. Which is good, because there isn’t any. Privacy curtains hide you from prying eyes outside, so if your mistress is a punk rock princess who likes fierce unblended margaritas and hear Sloppy Seconds and Social D interrupted by “Rhiannon,” you’ve found your new home.