If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. If it is broke, it’s probably cool to hang on the walls.
Those truisms are two similar and equally important pieces to the dive bar mythos. From complex themes and stuffy, plush seating, even the “dive” bars of New York can be a little too much for those simply wanting a place that probably doesn’t give a shit who you are, what you do, or who you bring so long as you pony up for some tall boys and tip your bartender. On an isolated pocket of commerce surrounded by warehouses on Flushing Ave sits The Wreck Room, the graffiti-covered paradise for your broke boozing needs that looks like what a dorm run by 70s CBGB denizens would look like.
The throwback vibe is immediate as you walk further and further from windows under tin ceilings and old school wallpaper. It all opens up into a room of springy and mildly decrepit booths that have the perfect tension after a bevy of ass-placement. Two pool tables (TWO!) form the centerpiece, while a disco ball spins against the back wall despite the large amount of psychobilly and post punk on the jukebox. Jim Jarmusch is probably sitting in one of the back booths talking shit with Tom Waits, or in the multicolored bathrooms bearing the tags of the Wreck Room’s marker-ready patrons.
Best of all is a kitchen of legitimate excellence. And no, that’s not just reflecting lower standards based on higher blood-alcohol volume. Fried pickles and delicious sandwiches keep you going when the booze calories don’t cut it. Next door is the Arancini Bros delicious new shop selling Italian rice balls for only 3 bones. It’s a perfect constellation of cheap n’ delicious, so enjoy the casual night of drinks with good buddies that only spots like this can supply.
940 Flushing Ave [between Central Ave & Evergreen Ave]
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