In summer, the Burren is arguably OK. There's serviceable food, drinks, beer, and sometimes better than decent cover bands in the back. But come September, the place is so crawling with obnoxious frat boys that paying a cover charge to brave the throngs of loud, hostile 20-somethings, who seethe at you if you so much as glance at their table, is just not worth it.
Any bar that needs TSA-levels of security should raise a red flag, but especially if it’s as gross as Scary Ann’s. You don’t go to SA’s to unwind or get to know the pretty girl from the gym. You go because you want to get hammered on $2 Narragansett tall boys in a windowless room full of people singing "Sweet Caroline," play a round or two of Big Buck Hunter, and start a fight with anyone who isn’t wearing a Boston College sweatshirt. It’s more of a coming-of-age ritual than a bar.