My group's ages ranged from 23 to 29. The bartender checked our IDs, which were from IL, MN, TX, and CT, so she asked for a second form, which for most of us was a Marquette University ID. To the MN girl: ""What's your sign? Okay, just 'cuz you go to Marquette doesn't mean anything. Get a Wisconsin ID."" To IL: ""Same to you. You're here 30 days, you need a Wisconsin ID."" To TX girl, who hasn't witnessed either of the previous two interactions: ""This is the last time I take this sh** (non-WI identification)."" To 28-year-old girl with a valid CT license: ""I'm taking this. It's a fake. You can leave.""
An extensive argument ensued, mostly centered around the CT girl needing her driver's license back. The bartender, who harped on with an air of entitlement about having been trained in fake IDs and so on, was incredibly catty and rude from the second we walked in the door. The owner half-heartedly backed up his employee. They both said that they knew the ID was a fake because it didn't have ""hair color"" listed on it. Neither did IL. Neither did MN. Does yours? We called the police and waited outside for an hour. The police then presumably called Sal, the owner, and he came outside and returned the valid CT license to my friend, who has been legally drinking for seven years.
Anyway, I had previously appreciated the ""dive"" nature of this place, but I can't overlook inept service and harassment. And yeah, the beer costs more than it should. And the bathrooms are dirty. And there isn't much seating. And it's smokey. And it's highly likely that you'll get mugged as you leave.
And this is all from a guy who had his first kiss with the girl he loves at this very place. Seriously, f*** the New Yorker.
Pros: Umm, locks on the bathroom doors?
Cons: The bartender with an axe to grind.