These are New York's 10 Bad Decision Bars
The Bad Decision Bar. It's a special kind of place, one where your night usually goes: Jager bomb, Jager bomb, beer pong, gross hookup, Jager bomb, shirtless!, double-Jager bomb, karaoke!, is that sweat or pee?, Jager bomb, annnnnnnnnd my credit cards are gone. Here in NYC, we've heard (yeah… heard…) there are 10 of these so-called "Bad Decision Bars" that you should stay away from (/go to all the time).
At 3a, it seems like a good idea to rent a private room, house a ton of sake, and straight-up kill some Hilary Duff songs... but it isn't, even if you are Hilary Duff.
B Bar & Grill
The line here is at least twice as long as the one at Phebe's, which means it's at least twice as good, right? RIGHT!!?!
The 13th Step
Was it really worth getting into a fist fight over the bounce rule, bro?
You told yourself you were only going to get one drink and maaaayyyybe a lap dance. You woke up broke, covered in glitter, and with a weird inner-thigh rash ("Why won't it stop itching???").
Literally any bar you go to with coworkers and stay past 11p
The only way this ends well is if someone else does something worse than challenging everyone to a Jager bomb contest.
Upper East Side
Ok, so you popped your collar, put on your lobster belt, and waited in line for 20 minutes at 2a... now bring on the ill-advised Frenching with the daughter of some banker from Greenwich!
You're not sure why it was frowned upon to stock their drink board with a week's supply of Dreamsicles and Gatoritas, fist cheeseballs, and then dive head-first through the window of the only cab in sight on your way out, but it was.
Showing up at 330a and hitting on literally whoever is there is not a viable life strategy. Or is it?!? (It's not.)
Murray Hill, Puerto Rico, and other locations
Best case scenario: you get some over-the-pants stuff with a chick from the ACC outside the bar, and go home with a doggy bag full of hushpuppies. Worst case scenario: you spill a fishbowl down your pants during a fishbowl race and go home with a doggy bag full of portobello skewers.
A Bar in Hoboken
How did you even get here?