This is right around the corner from my old apartment. I was at first so excited to live so close to a bar - the spot where the owner parks his car is practically my old back yard. Inside, it's clear that the name is fitting. There's a rail from an old train track that wraps around the bottom of the bar and artistic photographs of train hang on the walls while the Brown line (Damen stop) is right across the street. It doesn't look like a bad little place to have a drink or get some bar food, but it doesn't take long to realize there is something seriously wrong here. It's not just that the service is horrible - these girls seem downright miserable. They act like they've all been abused or something, like it would kill them to crack a smile. Once in a while there's a nice girl, but no one there seems to last very long. Every time I've gone in there are new bartenders and servers working there, and they never have any knowledge of their own menu or liquor or wine selection. They have no idea what they serve most of the time. Plus it's so unnecessarily loud - the music is blaring like it's some kind of club when it's just a neighborhood bar where, believe it or not, people actually want to have conversations.
I'd say skip the rail and head a few blocks down to Lincoln Square for a nice neighborhoody experience.