Identity crisis gone right. Ostensibly a Tikki bar/lounge, one is more likely to end up drinking Presidente than Scorpion Bowls. The jukebox doesn't exactly promise a trip to the islands, but the mini dance floor and semi-private alcove in the back beg to be taken advantage of. If it were located anywhere other than the northern end of the last truly seedy strip of bars in Manhattan, it would be overrun with hipsters. As is, enjoy.