Where in NYC to Watch the Yankees-Phillies World Series

Sixth borough, my ass. Call Philadelphia whatever you want any other time, but this week, in New York, we call them one thing: “Fucked.” Because the Yankees have the best team they’ve had in years, and they’re about to win their first World Series since 2000. Granted, it’s eight years late, but sometimes we need to play catch-up. For those who will have to tolerate watching the seven games with you — or watching the Phillies lose in four — we’ve come up with some decent alternatives to your average digs you’d watch baseball, for those who might find this a less-than-pleasurable experience. Batter up.

Warren 77: The New York Rangers’ own Vogue intern, Sean Avery, has a stake in this swank Tribeca sports bar place. People have said the food tastes like something you’d dig up on the third baseline, which: possibly true! Though we’ve never tried it. To their credit: for a sports bar, pretty stylish digs in a pretty stylin’ neighborhood with a lack of decent, upscale places to watch a game. Bring your pre-Avenue gaggle of girls here and drink to Damon maybe — just maybe — not throwing like a girl scout for once in his life, tonight.

Brooklyn Bowl: Oh, you better believe it. A big, beautiful hi-def screen in front of every one of their lanes, and they’ll be blasting the game and the jams each night that they’re playing. Throw in Blue Ribbon’s table/lane service of awesome, awesome bites and oh yeah: bowling. Bowling while watching baseball. With Blue Ribbon food. And jams. A win-win situation on all fronts.

Brass Monkey: Go West, Young Adventurer! Or if you’ve been dragged into the District of The Packing of Meat, or the District Where Figurative Meat Is Now Packed In Place of Literal Meat, and you’re (A) not the clurrb’ing type or (B) would rather be watching the Yankees game somewhere DJ Asshat isn’t raping you in the ears at deafening volumes with his Pucini/Oakenfold/Shakur mashup, go to Brass Monkey! It’s right in the ‘hood, it’s gritty, it’s old New York, and it’s gonna be a party, sans bottle service and/or Jersey’s “Finest.”

Milady’s: Again, an important joint for how unlikely it is, but god only knows how long Milady’s has been around (answer: for-ev-er). Step off, SoHo House: you and your anti-suit eugenics can find some balls here, an honest-to-god neighborhood joint of the highest pedigree. Everything at Milady’s is just decent, but isn’t that just how you need it, sometimes?

Blaue Gans: You want actually good food and the game? Tall order! Tribeca’s Blaue Gans — projecting the games on the “big screen” taking up the entire back wall that he’s also used for the elections and European soccer — is classic Kurt Gutenbrunner: sure, you can hit hard some ‘Weizen, and snack on the free soft pretzels and roasted almonds, but seriously? Go Gutenbrunner or go home: at least get a brat. You can pretend you’re uptown as it happens, except your “hot” “dog” will actually taste substantial and you won’t be embarrassingly gouged for it.

Corner Bistro: Asshole staff? Check. Great jukebox? Check. Overhyped burgers? Check. Yup. Plenty of people will be watching the game at the Corner Bistro. There’re worse places. At least it’s not Brother Jimmy’s?

Old Town Bar: Right by the BlackBook offices, the Corner Bistro that Corner Bistro wishes it were, cool beers, good burgers, great chili. Hell yeah, you’re going to Old Town, and you’re gonna enjoy yourself, too. Remember, as the sign out front will remind you: no bluenoses, and no bullshit, neither. Perfect location, mixed crowd, this should be your final answer, your fastball, down the middle. Oh, and they make a decent cheesesteak, too. Eat that, Philly fans.

Hook, Line and Single! Top 10 Places to Pick Up Seamen During Fleet Week

imageIt’s hard to stand out in a city populated by naked cowboys, that screeching guy who wears bird feathers and bells in Union Square, and Mike Nelson. But when the ships dock in New York for Fleet Week and its annual Memorial Day celebration, the Coast Guard and Navy mariners dressed head-to-toe in their white, starched uniforms aren’t exactly subtle. That said, a handy how-to on nabbing seamen might be helpful. (Full disclosure: They’re everywhere!)

Rusty Knot (West Village) – This nautical-themed watering hole is practically on the Hudson, and it has the best dark and stormy mix in the city. Worst-case scenario: You won’t meet a sailor, but there’s an aquarium filled with blowfish! ● Old Town Bar (Flatiron) – Once a safe haven for Manhattan’s old-world editors, this creaky, dark den of drink now serves the best clam roll in the city to the weariest of Navy-gazers. Plus, there’s a man who lives off of the upstairs eating area, and I’m almost sure he’s Cap’n Ahab. ● Ritz Bar & Lounge (Hell’s Kitchen) – Think Village People, not necessarily seamen proper, at this HK schooner-adorned, dimly lit meat market. (On your quest for Fleet Week friendship, expect multiple “seamen” puns from the gay patrons here.) ● Legion (Williamsburg) – There may not be any boathouse boys here, but this East Williamsburg staple has three-dollar “Atomic” pints of beer — and a White Castle across the street. ● Cubby Hole (West Village) – No longer the sanctuary for casualties of the Beatrice Inn door policy, this anything-goes shrine to Madonna and 90s divas will most certainly attract a don’t-ask-don’t-tell group of Fleeters. ● Ear Inn (SoHo) – A late-late-late night restaurant sure to reel in a few Sway castaways looking for cheap, unfussy beer. ● Spring Lounge (SoHo) – There will be no shortage of men in white here. Its microbrewery beer menu is almost overwhelming, and it opens at 8am. ● Don Hill’s (SoHo) – No longer home to Leigh Lezark and her asymmetrical crew of merrymakers, the eponymous venue now has room for the nightlife aquatic. In keeping with the nautical theme, Hill’s will house a live performance by Pisser tonight. ● Central Park Boathouse (Upper West Side) – Overlooking the park lake, the Boathouse is a healthy, hearty mix of geriatrics, homeless passersby and, yep, sailors! Order the swordfish or snapper with melted cabbage. ● Blue Water Grill (Union Square) – http://bbook.com/guides/details/blue-water-grill Part of the Dos Caminos family of restaurateurs, Blue Water Grill employees tweet about the goings-on at their seafood emporium. A sample: “memorial days menus have been finalized- watermelon gazpacho, jumbo shrimp skewers, main lobster, jonah crab boil, tons of sides, etc etc,” and, “recently saw former presidential candidate mike dukakis for what seemed like a formal business dinner with 10+ people, wife was there too.” Ships ahoy!
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New York: Top 10 Places to Take Our Boss for His Birthday

Happy birthday, Boss! BlackBook executive editor Chris Mohney is a cringeworthy 38 yearsold today! [You’re certainly right on the cringing part. -CM] He spends his days supervising the efforts of trained monkeys (fellow blogger Ben Barna and myself), strenuously trying to avoid any events that would call for either of us to be shot dead. After work, Chris goes home to exert influence on The Littlest Mohney to be nothing like us. But we want to take him out to celebrate! So: where do you take your married, with-child 38 year-old boss out for his birthday? Answers after the jump.

10. Old Town Bar (Gramercy) – The once semi-hard drinking destination of New York media-ites now sees the likes of strollers in it on the weekends. Family friendly! 9. West Side Pistol Range (Flatiron) – Okay, so they don’t serve booze, and you shouldn’t (really) show up wasted. But assuming Chris never gets to take hold of the outraged-blogger-monkey takedown scenario, he could always pop a few rounds off in fantasy here. 8. Per Se (Columbus Circle) – Thomas Keller serves up one of the priciest, most legendary meal in town to a select few every evening. No shot in hell of this happening, Boss, but a nice pipe dream no less. 7. Zum Schneider (East Village) – Beer bar Chris had a get-together at post-work last week that neither Ben or I could make it to. We are dicks, but at least we now know Chris likes this place. 6. Ear Inn (SoHo) – Favorite watering hole of BlackBook resident tech madman/Director of Development Dan Murphy, who uses this place as his office-outside-of-the-office. Possibly the only way we could get Dan to attend any kind of social function with us would be going there. 5. Rick’s Cabaret & Steakhouse (Midtown West) – Friends of BlackBook Media, the ladies at Rick’s incidentally hold media types who work on the web side of print magazines in high regard. Yet another way for Ben and I to get away with spending the least amount of money. Send him your finest matron! And some red meat! 4. Damon: Frugal Friday’s @ TOM (Flatiron) – Actually a feasible dining option, right down the street from BlackBook HQ. Damon’s the cheap-o version of Craft, from which it stems: haute small plates, single-digit prices. We could afford Chris a few bar snacks, but unfortunately, it’s only open on Fridays. He’d have to take a rain check. 3. Corner Bistro (West Village) – Because they love us there. 2. Xunta (East Village) – A place Chris actually enjoys going, according to our masthead. We might be able to work with this. 1. GoldBar (Nolita) – Location of this evening’s BlackBook party, at which we’d be able to afford Chris a drink (due in no small part to the open bar we’ll readily be taking advantage of). Chris would be there, but he’s got a grown-ass-man life to attend to on a Wednesday night, unlike the rest of us alkie createns. Maybe next time, Boss.

Weekend at Bernie’s: Drowning Sorrows With Mr. Madoff In The Upper East Side

Sometimes when I have a tough day at work, I like to go around the corner to Old Town Bar and grab a pint of Guinness. If it’s been a particularly hectic day, I might opt for whiskey. That got me thinking. How would I drown my work sorrows if I’d just gotten busted for jacking, say, $50 billion from pretty much half New York plus (literally) their moms? I’m not gonna lie: I do admire this man’s Ponzi-schemin’ hustle. And that’s why I’m here to help a brother out. Bernie, if you’re reading this, here’s a step-by-step plan to get you off the couch, make you stop sulking, and kickstart your dormant social life! Cause you’re never gonna feel better if you just lounge around watching Nickelodeon all day.

● You’re under house arrest. It’s not so tough in your luxurious Upper East Side penthouse…but…you get lonely up there all by yourself. And your family isn’t really feeling you these days. (In fact, you would’ve gotten away with it had it not been for those meddlesome kids). Maybe a dozen lithe, vapid hotties will distract you for a bit. Don’t go the Elliot Spitzer, high-priced call girl route, which turns out is fraught with danger. Instead, hire one of New York’s finest model-wrangling promoters to throw you a hottie-packed jam at your crib. A giant pillow fight with a gaggle of Estonian girls would probably take your mind off the fact that all of your golf buddies want to beat you down. Bonus: the girls don’t speak English and won’t know you from Rupert Murdoch or Dave Thomas, founder of Wendy’s.

● Turns out one of the Russian model chicks is pretty crafty and knows how to ditch the pesky ankle bracelet the law requires you wear at all times. Once Natasha has freed you from your electronic monitoring device using only a safety pin and lube, it’s time to get dressed. Before hitting the streets, you need a disguise. Select a cozy, season-appropriate Santa outfit. This get-up will keep you both incognito and toasty warm. The party beckons.

● It’s late afternoon and the Upper East Side is a snow-tinged, winter wonderland. Sleigh ride in Central Park? Hell no, you need to drink. Start at classic upper crust haunt Swifty’s. You gingerly enter, expecting to get ice-grilled by blue-blooded New Yorkers like Muffie Potter Aston or one of the Bancroft-ladies-who-lunch, but instead find the joint eerily empty. Manuel the Guatemalan busboy shrugs and informs you that the silver foxes were last spotted on the bus heading down to the Subway Inn. You shuffle out wondering if you’re somehow responsible.

● Strolling over to Le Bilboquet, you catch a haggard Steven Spielberg a few doors down lugging a cardboard box and ringing Ron Perlman’s buzzer frantically. Perlman – one of the few people in the neighborhood who never dropped a cent in your pyramid scheme – isn’t coming to the door. You cross the street and are about to enter the tiny bistro when you notice one of the execs from Ponzi-victim BNP Paribas drinking tap water with a dejected Mort Zuckerman, another of your marks. Maybe French isn’t such a hot idea.

● Next stop: Nello. As you walk into Nello’s and whip off your fake Santa beard, you immediately get a knowing wink from another Bernie who’s been embroiled in a major New York scandal of his own: Bernie Kerick, the former police commish and a regular at the posh Madison Ave. eatery. Things are looking up for the Bern-meister! Just as you’re starting to believe everything is gonna be OK, you spot a tableful of billionaires-cum-paltry-millionaires having a lunch of mac-n-cheese and water at the coveted round table. All glare in your direction. Ouch. You duck downstairs to use to restroom and run into another scandal-loving Nello regular, Al Sharpton, waiting to use the john. He gives you a bear hug and commends you for “sticking it to the Man.” You’re overjoyed by the warmth, but then you think, “Wait, aren’t I supposed to be the Man?” This will take some getting used to.

● Perhaps you truly are a man of the people now, a modern day Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and…well, nevermind. You embrace the role regardless. Head over to Bloomingdale’s, still done up in your Santa suit, and locate a sad, preppy looking tyke. You sit him on your lap with a jovial ho-ho-ho, then ask the boy his name and what he wants for Christmas. The kid turns out to be Fred Wilpon’s nephew, so you quickly scribble an “I.O.U. for One Toy Truck and $512 million” and tell him to hand it to his uncle Freddie when’s he’s sitting down.

● As you leave Bloomie’s, you scurry past the nearby Subway Inn in case one of the down-and-out Swifty’s socialites should stumble out. It’s getting dark – time for a proper cocktail. You summon the Slavic models to the Bar Mark. It looks sort of like the well-appointed cabin of your luxury yacht, which is anchored somewhere in the Mediterranean. After four Martinis you start calculating how fast a discreet jet would take you to your boat. As you mull your getaway, one of the Latvian girls amuses herself by tossing those delicious bar nuts into your fedora. Ahh, to be so young and carefree. ● It’s midnight and time to turn in. Heading home you spot fired-up society chronicler David Patrick Columbia lurking near your building, looking for a scoop. You duck down a side street, only to be recognized by a wild-haired homeless dude brandishing a cup who yells out, “Yo Ponzi dude, all I’m asking for is some change to get a pack of smokes.” You reach into your pocket and open your wallet. Next to the 50 crisp, $1 billion bills, you find a few fives and stuff them into the wild-eyed man’s cup.The bum thanks you profusely for the generosity. It’s a positive note to end the night on, so you congenially mutter something back about being a “huge E.T. fan” and smile as Spielberg shuffles off into the darkness whistling Indy’s theme.

New York: Top 5 Old-School Bars

imageGlimpse the city as it was before fauxhawks, metrosexuality, and that internets thing.

1. The Campbell Apartment at Grand Central (Midtown East) – Former private office hidden in GCT with flapper-clad staff delivering expert shakers. 2. Bemelmans Bar at The Carlyle Hotel (Upper East Side) – Named after Madeline creator Ludwig, whose murals enliven one of Manhattan’s classiest drinking experiences. 3. Ear Inn (Soho) – Geek-boy film crews and UPS workers in their fly brown shorts both agree on super- old, super-dark tavern.

4. Old Town Bar (Flatiron) – Oasis of Chicago in Union Square, proudly lubricating the locals since 1892. 5. Tillman’s (Chelsea) – Golden Age Harlem scene schooling us in smooth and sexy.