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Category: Dive Bars
Neighborhood: East Village2nd Ave-Houston St (F, V)
Uptown Bleecker St-Lafayette St (6)
Downtown Bleecker St-Lafayette St (6, B, D, F, V)
This place is great! One of my favorite places to hide out where none of my friends would find me. You will find me camping out here at least 3-4 times a week, after midnight of course! Cheap beer, dirty boys, and your choice of music from an old juke box! What else could a girl like me ask for?! lol
I love the decor of this place. The whole bar reminds me of a long hallway before you get to the dirty bathrooms. I love it! I could spend all day reading everything written on those walls. Definitely has character and you will definitely find me there on the regular!
"If you're only in town for the weekend, I am taking you to Mars Bar. Because there's no questioning you going anywhere else."
And so we walk towards it, passing by a froufy wine bar before encountering a graffiti-strewn wall with "THE EAST VILLAGE IS DEAD" emblazoned all over it.
A man stumbles and mumbles out the door. It's daylight, and he's obviously a little disoriented by it.
"So this is the place", says friend.
We walk in.
The stench of stale piss and dead souls permeates all over.
It is 4:30 pm on Halloween. Too early to be in here by cool kids standards. For no one inside is dressed up. No one inside is under 45 either. Everyone sitting at the bar, all messy and keeling over what seems to be their 7th or 8th drink. The bartender, a young woman, then yells and threatens to kick one out, but Ha!Ha! She was just kidding, obviously. He slurs back and looks at his surroundings, confused. I watch, a silent party to this scene.
The entire space is slender and dank. There is not a single blank space on any surface. It's either painted or scribbled on. Or maybe other actions have taken place which I don't want to know. There are doors to bathrooms that I spot in the back. Which is laughable, because obviously many people never made it that far.
A woman then gets up off her stool. She looks around. Her voice is raspy after her millionth cigarette. She's been singing out of tune to the nonstop Beatles playing on the jukebox this entire time, but now she wants to get down and funky. And in doing so, meanders to the jukebox and selects "Fernando".
Yes. Fernando.
Because nothing says funk dance party in an East Village dive like a bunch of Swedish chicks cheesetastically warbling about some vague lothario. She attemps to sing, this lady, but she forgets the words, and just dances disjointedly. A semi-smile appears on her face, complementing her heavy eyelids. She is dance dreaming about Fernando.
My friend, who lives a few blocks away, must have thought I'd have wanted to bolt the moment we walked in. But we stayed for a few rounds of drinks, and I soaked it all in: the stench and the drunk, slurry neighborhood locals and all that went with them, before carrying on with my evening. This was one of the last bastions of the old neighborhood, my friend said. And I can obviously see that.
And thus am grateful.
MAIN INFO A VISITOR NEEDS TO KNOW
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If you're visiting New York and thinking about coming here, first really debate what level of divey-ness you'll be willing to accept for your surroundings. I see other people have labeled it as gross and an H1N1-ridden dinge lab, and those descriptions may be true. But if you're willing to tolerate and accept and enjoy for a mellow beer in the middle of an afternoon along with drunk Fernando lady, why the hell not? It's the real deal. Surely delapidated and smelly as all get out, but real. At least before all the cool kids show up later for their Posey McPose-fest.
G&Ts and Bass Ales were $5 a pop.
4 stars.
I like dive bars but...
I walked into this establishment, took a shot and promptly (2 minutes laters - no kid) threw up.... in the grates right outside....
I think you can contract AIDS here.
If you are dirty like that, dont shower much, have no idea where or if those glasses have been washed...then this is your place.
Cuba was cleaner than this.
I want to like this place. I want to like this place.The windows let in really great light day and night. The bar is worn well. The patrons are a unique bunch. This is were its greatness ends.
They have no beer on tap. All of the beer is in boxes stacked in clear view all over the bar. Its like a warehouse. The bathrooms were not right in a multi generational old shit and piss stain kinda way. I will piss in my pants before I go in there again.
The service just sucked the most though. The bartender was a hipster with her 50's style glasses and flowered dress with an attitude. She made it seem like it was like a privileged to receive her service. This place needs an experienced bartender that is well worn and seen it all. Not some recent Barnard graduate.
Never again.
Cheap Drinks...Very 1980's south bronx movie esq...
People are just bugged out...service is actually pretty decent...
I once walked by with my mom...I said I hang out there sometimes...
She has called me every day since then to make sure I am ok.
Mars Bar brought my family closer.
I come here because it's the least pretnentious place in the city. People rarely ask me what I do for a living. Which means i's not really a place for social climbers. If you came to NY becasue you watched friends or sex in the city and thoughtn it wooiuld be a coll place to live with the other aspiring beautiful artistic types, you don't want to come to mars bar. If however, you enjoy the stories on Law and Order and its children special victims and criminal intent (both of whom you will find at the mars Bar, along with Jerry Orbach, who never really died; he just gave up his eyes in exchange for a few drinks) then you will love this place. It's a bit like the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars, but there are no booths or trucker types and if you want food you have to get it from the corner street vendor. Just be prepared: an aura of danger and violence fills the placeat times--you never know when you might die here. If so you won't be the first.
A note to yuppies and hipsters who venture in to use the bathrooms. Fruit fleis buzz the toilet seats feeding off the encrusted vomit and shit. There are no locks on the doors--defintely a problem if you're trying to snort coke or shoot up (why there are no locks, a legacy from the past; you would ahve to be really desparate to shoot up here with the flies buzzing between your cooker and the toilet) Two people barely fit in the bathrooms and movement will lead to inevitable contact with the walls or fixtures--which might have any number and species of bug and germs crawling around (do germs crawl? In Mars, yes--they're trying to get away!). If you're going in for a quick fuck forget it; other than blowjobs or cunnilingus sex is a real problem, unless you're so drunk you just don't care, but then why bother with the bathroom. They are better places to take a fuck, shit or a piss just across 1st street on second--the karaoke and gay bars--or you can use the alley up towards bowery like the the locals do.
Some people are offended by the smell in the back--it's not so bad you get used to it. Some people complain about mthe boxes--they're lined up agaisnt the wall in the back to protect people--yeah, men or women--to cushion the fall if they get punched to hard (in the front it's more crowded so you don't need the "canvas and ropes" but then you rund the risk of getting hit by mistake). Plus bricks and toehr shit have been know to fly through the front windows, and there's always the possibility of bulltes coming through the front door. Some people don't like the art; I don't get that one since you're free to make your own pretty much anytime.
On any given night someone famous might come in and leave with nausea. But you won't recognize them--they won't be that kind of famous. More like "Infamous." The music selection is great but controlled by the customers and the juke box skips a lot. The bartenders can be very surly when it gets busy. They--especially the sexy blond who words on the weekends who thinkgs she's the star and probably is--scream a lot, sometimes just for effect. It rarely works--they should teach them dog obedience training instead. Another bartender, another beauty--who could be in the song Ex lion Tamer or the movie Circus of Horrors--told you the only training they get is "to jump on the bar when things get out of control" like they do with the stool and the lions. The alcohol is cheap but then it's watered down so even though the protions are generous it's not the deal you think it's going to be. Lots of people drink the makes mark since that's what the employees drink it's morelikely to be authentic.
PS No one likes cops and snithces here. You're expected to take care of yourself and your own. A lot of chicks come here with guys and wind up humilating them by hooking up with the sexy dangerous types with bad breath and STDs: buyer beware. Although the used syringes are long gone--that was the nineties--they should have an OD prevention kit (like all NYC bars should) and a fire extinguisher more prminently visible. That way it's easier to avoid unneccessary contact with the NYPD and FD. It is wheelchzair accessibnle but obnly iun the front. You'd have to make alternative arrangements for bathrooms. Lastly, the bouncers (really bar backs) might look lame--not the big brawny types you're used to seeing. Don't let that fool you. Step out of line here and they'll be on you like the fruitflies in the back are on the toilet seats, with their feet on your face and a whole crowd buzzsing overhead waiting to get theirs.
Note: This review is a product of the poster's imagination. All of the characters are fictional and bear no resemblance to real people, alive or dead. Moreso, she's never been to Mars bar, only heard about it.
I'm inspired to write a review because of seeing a one-star review given it by a friend a few years back. While I completely understand the one star, it still produced a tender and protective mother instinct towards this underparented, unshowered, orphan of a bar that somehow survives in the shadow of bright, shiny new towers of industry shooting up all around its disturbingly dirty, little unassuming self. It gives me hope that Mars Bar survives, a stubborn, diseased, little punk rock barnacle fused to the side of the massive glass-and-metal behemouth hogging the rest of the block.
Plus, the drinks are cheap and deadly, there's no such thing as stopping in for a couple, and I'll never have any memory of leaving Mars Bar.The juke box rules, the bathrooms don't lock and the doorknobs are nowhere near the toilets so basically a trip to the bathroom (inevitable given the sheer volume consumed) equals risking indecent exposure. If they ever fix this, I'll know their days are numbered. You can find all types of freaks in here and much the better for it. I once accompanied an out-of-town friend and her in-town blindish date here at 7 or 8 pm mid-week and ended up chatting to the bartender while they had sex in the disgusting, unlocked bathroom. Gross and true, but impressive nonetheless.
Drinks are cheap
The patrons are creepy
Graffiti=decoration
People get into fights
The music is awesome
Men will hit on you and your friend, then threaten to kill you when you turn down their advances
I've never been so scared in my life...and I can't wait to go back.
I walked in.
I saw.
I smelled.
I bolted.
...And plan to never return. You will not find girls like me in this bar. Maybe it's better that way.
Anyway, you disgust me. And scare me. Just a little.
(No, not in that "good way.")
I need to go wash my hair.
This is the quintessential dive bar of my life. It's a crazy bar of characters and booze.. graffiti and art (who's to judge which is which).. kickass punk rock jukebox (love the Mars Bar home mix CDs).. They have a pet rat!
My birthday is the day after Christmas- and for years I've come here, at times alone, at midnight, for the toast of my next year. I've been snowed in at this bar. It's the first bar to hit when I get laid off. It's the first bar I know will be open when I need a drink around Noon or earlier, on any given day. I remember several NYE nights here, into the depths of the morning. I remember falling in love here, too.
It's dirty, yes. It smells like the true spirit of the east village NYC. I freakin love it.
Two additions after recently spending an extended stay period in the Mars bar:
-The bathrooms live up to their reputation, its airborne. run!!!
-As noted by another Yelper, each song on the Juke Box has a purpose. Outstanding music in a most unusual setting.
Where do you go when you just killed a guy and simply need some time to think - maybe even get some… Read more »
Just like everyone says, IT SMELLS LIKE PISS!!
Was a recommendation from a friend. We no longer speak...
How has the CDC not closed this place??
Seriously I would bet you can trace the origins of H1N1 to this place. I can deal with filth, I understand the rock "n" roll pseudo-hip kitsch of graffiti stained walls, but the smell?
It stinks of urine before you hit the bathroom. If you do venture to bathroom it's one of the most vile places you'll ever see. The flies, the stench and don't even look too close at floor. It's an old wives tale that you can get an STD from a toilet seat..... but if you sit down I'd suggest getting tested immediately.
The jukebox, when it's not skipping on The Beatles "Come Together",
is pretty good. The drinks are cheap and the shots are enormous. Seriously it was more of a 4 oz. (not to clean) glass than a shot glass.
Service was good and surprisingly there are rules here. You can't pass out in the bar and if you're passed out outside the you have to move 20ft from the entrance.
I probably wouldn't venture here again except, you know......... it is cheap :)
Since CBGB's closed down this place takes the prize for dirtiest everything. From the outside you know what you're getting into, and I'm sure the smell and noise keep away the kind of people I wouldn't want to drink with anyway.
So, if you like your bars gritty and your music loud, check it out. The bartenders are always gruff, and you can pretty much get away with anything. A safe haven in an ever increasingly sterile city.
"give me a couple hookers with a side of blow."
"whadya wanna wash it down with, kid?"
"a double jack."
It wasnt clean. It wasnt pretty. It was deathly dark and dirty. It was perfect. If i stabbed someone (which, of course, i would never do *crosses fingers*), i could leave the body leaning up against the wall and no one would blink twice.
True dive.
Nuff said.
The worst bar in the world. If you go more than twice you are a scumbag or a low life. I love dive bars but this is ridiculous.
How is this bar pulling in such great reviews? newsflash: it's a dive. I want my dives to have cheap beer or a nice cheap beer/shot combo.
This dive does not have cheap beer. That should be all you need to know.
My friend and I were the only patrons on the evening when we went. There are no lights inside and really loud punk music. The extra beer cases are stacked along one wall. When I went to use the restroom, there was some fresh blood all over the sink, toilet and one wall. I peed on my hands and went back to my beer. It was certainly more expensive than I'd have assumed for a place of such color.
While trying to talk with my friend over the music, a fellow sidled up next to us. He was very very drunk, and had on a sweet neckerchief. He asked if he could buy us drinks, and then asked if we wanted to have a threeway romance at his mouth. I politely declined. Later that night I saw him out in front of another bar, and he acted like he didn't even know me. Whatever!
Mars Bar is pathetic. Four bucks for a Bud Light seems calculated to attract the Hot Topic crowd from Holmdel, NJ. Here's a rundown on what you might encounter:
1) paunchy dudes with sport coats on who are probably looking for tranqs.
2) Mexican "heavy metal" kids who say things like, "first we pound shots, then we pound pussy!" It takes these dudes about seven minutes to finish their shots of Jack Daniels.
3) A heavily tattooed kid with a ridiculous blond wig who looks like he couldn't decide between Clockwork Orange or The Warriors. He's some sort of flamboyant kingpin because he gets handed the pills that the dudes in category 1 presumably want. He massages the shoulders and wrists of his benefactor and purrs, "Darling, you always take care of me." The new "punk" generation has apparently been raised by NYU and Larry Clark.
4) A bar that's not "dirty" or "divey." It plays like a crappy performance art installation at the New Museum, complete with David Shrigley canvases on the wall. Yeah, the bathroom smells like piss. Congrats: that's the best you can do?
This review should have been ROTD:
http://www.yelp.com/bi...
Everything they say about Mars Bar is true:
they pour tremendous shots,
their prices are stupid cheap,
every song out of the jukebox has a purpose,
someone was killed there,
it is a black hole,
It smells like piss,
the stools are broken,
there are no taps and the beer they do have sucks,
it's dark, dank, dingy and depressing,
you will probably get assaulted and spit on,
the staff is weird,
bad drug deals, worse drugs,
there are cockroaches scurrying on the countertops,
and If you touch anyone, you Will get the plague,
It's all true. 5 stars.
Every time I've been to Mars, I've had a great time. Of course, this could be due to the fact that I'm disgustingly drunk by the time I get there.
I've made best friends (for the night) with several people in this place. You know, the type of besties where you agree to forever and always be buddies because you're drunk and have no idea who this person is but you put them in your cell phone and wonder who the hell they are the next morning. Yeah, that's my favorite kind of best friend.
Where do you go when the apocalypse hits and you are a lone survivor (minus the zombies) in need of piss tasting beer and a safehouse?
Where do you go when you haven't gotten laid all night and you might have just this one last chance before you are too drunk to say anything comprehensibly?
Where to you go to pee and throw up at the end of the night and have that one last shot while dancing/singing to the Runaways playing on the Jukebox?
Why, Mars Bar of course!
This lone star stands for everything Mars Bar tries to convey...AND I LOVE THE PLACE! It would be a little pretentious to give it the 5 stars that the place is obviously not going for. This will always be one of my favorite haunts of all time. They have a kicka$$ jukebox, you can tag on their walls and in my case, the ceilings. You have to piss on the floors in the bathrooms because toilet will most likely be clogged. It smells like urine. Your beer tastes like urine. Maybe it is urine.
There are no rules. Almost. You still have to smoke outside or the cat-eyed bartender cutie will tear you a new @$$hole. There are almost no fights here because this is where people go when they have already pissed the night away- and need a place to piss.
Despite the broken chairs and outright offensive smells and decor, it tends to attract a very interesting and diverse crowd. You get the homies, the punks, the hipsters, the professionals slumming it, the mafia, the undercover cops...
Just don't wake that guy up next to you at the bar.
Saw a guy here either asleep or OD'd on heroin, he was just pushed off to the side in a chair. Enough said.
Mars Bar: Maybe the scummiest 20 square feet in NYC.
Most Filthy, Disgusting, Slimy Bar ever!!
I love it.
The Toilet paper stuck to the ceiling fan is what did for me, after I saw that I could not help but love the place.
**I dropped by here a couple Saturday afternoons ago to meet up with my friend Ev. Nice to see Mars is the same.
Dear Mars,
don't change.
Love,
me
Years ago (when CBGB's was around as was Coney Island High and when the Continental used to have… Read more »
The East Village is dead.
I work at this place. Before I worked there I had been a patron for many years. Here's what I have to say:
Best/worst dive bar in the history of the world. Smells like Piss and Old Men. You will probably wake up on the floor in a pile of vomit (and/or Urine or Blood) and will fondly reminisce about the night for the rest of your life.
BE ADVISED that this shithole is ADDICTIVE.
There is a longstanding cult following. So after that first visit you may experience pangs of withdrawal and find yourself sneaking out to get a Mars "fix" (against your better judgement) again and again.
The bar has many, many "regulars." Most of which are lovable ASSHOLES (haha). and I can tell you in one word why most people keep coming back: SHENNANEGANS! This bar has BY FAR more Shennangans and debauchery going on at any given time than any other bar that I've EVER BEEN TO.
The Jukebox is also really awesome AND the booze is cheap.
So If I had to sum up why Marz is so great I'd say: "Colorful" Characters, Shennanegans, GOOD MUSIC, cool bartenders, and CHEAP BOOZE!
I have been to thousands of bars in my life and this place is one of my all time favorites.
It's small, dark and dirty. I absolutely loved it the second I walked in.
The locals were very friendly and I felt right at home. Beer comes in bottles only and a beer and a shot is the right drink to get here.
Fantastic, when I get back to New York, this is the first place I am going to visit again.
For lack of stars on the rating schale, I have given it 5 stars, but it should get 6.
One of the best bars on the planet.
This is the only bar in New York that I've actually liked. This is the bar that you go to when you've had TOO MUCH! Too much is never enough for me and when this bar kicks you out you KNOW there's no more bars for you tonight! The best thing about this bar is that you won't remember anything in the morning!
Question:
Which bar is truly end of the line: The Blarney Cove, or Mars Bar?
I'm going to go with Mars Bar because of the permeating piss smell. I like to spend as much time as possible in places where people basically go to die, and this bar is the physical manifestation of death.
God bless America.
Last true sh1thole in the East Village. I will miss it, its shit beer, and even shittier patrons when it's gone
A mere five years ago this would have been a one star joint for me. Mars was the end of the line; the place where the worst stripe of drunk would spend the early part of their day, and folks staring the choice between death and rehab in the face spent their evenings.
What a difference half a decade makes.
It's still pretty much the same shithole it always was. What's changed is the world around it. Compared to the dive bar options left in the East Village there's nothing that even compares to the Mars Bar.
Mars, the worst of the worst, wins by attrition. How they manage to hang on is beyond me. It was the only option left to meet up with a broke-ass musician friend for an afternoon of drinking on my dollar; an afternoon that would leave the both of us looking good (or at least passable) compared to most of our compadres at the bar. And they will become at the very least associates of yours, because drunken conversation spills all around, just like commentary on the tunes played on the jukebox and any reasonably good-looking chick in the room.
If you can't handle a really bad dive bar steer WAY clear of this place. The entire place is covered with graffiti, which might be cool for some, but the proliferation of swastikas on our particular corner of the bar would be over the line for most folks... Until you remember where you are: what used to be the end of the line. Then they hand you their art book and let you add whatever you like to its pages. Free speech at its best and worst.
I used to be so proud of the fact that I'd never patronize this place. Today it's a breath of fresh air.
God bless Mars Bar and it's filthy bathrooms! The worst dive bar in the East Village lives on. Five stars on unholy principle!
Mars bar-dirty,dangerous,depraved,decedent,dilapitdated and downright fucking disgusting!.So why 5 stars?
This is the New york as you'd imagine it in the 70's and 80's.Scary,but full of amazing characters the likes of which you wouldn't find in some poncey meat-packing cocktail bar.
We had 6 pints before we went in,just to get in a mars bar kinda mood.
Sobered up a treat as soon as we walked through the door though.
People trying to strangle each other,a bar tender who was totally hammered,smackheads,weirdo's,cockroaches,a Harold ramis on crack lookalike and free whiskey.What more could you ask for?.
The mars bar is a rare thing in Nyc,no pretentions,so go now,just be prepared.
"Can't you see I'm blind?" a woman says to me as I'm sitting at Mars Bar...shards of spit hitting my face and the rap tap rap of her cane on the back of my chair. I lean in a little closer to the bar so she can pass by...wedging herself between me and the jukebox on her way to the restroom. Nearly ten minutes into this place and I'm already about to get my head taken off...as if I needed another excuse for a drink anyway. "A Budweiser please" I say and the smell of smoke from a man taking puffs inside the doorway hits my lips while another man at the end with slicked back hair and a scar on his temple gargles Frank Sinatra tunes to an overweight woman with bleached blonde hair. A small fan does a gentle whir hum on one of the top shelves...barely cooling the bottles of vodka it sits next to and I roll up my sleeves and unbutton my collar to lighten the load of the thick fog of stale heat permeating throughout the tiny area. Science I guess doesn't lie and it surely is hotter here on Mars and on Earth we have soil and on the Moon we've found a soft grey powder covering but here on Mars there seems to be a greasy film covering damn near everything.
I go out for a cigarette and get handed a joint...taking drags on my Parliament and staring down Houston Street shouting "Houston, you have the problem!" before doing a quick knee jerk shuffle back into the bar to land on my seat once again.
I'm pretty sure I'm wearing the kind of spacesuit you can't pee into, though I don't know about that guy over there, so I head to the bathroom...stopping for a moment to put a few dollars in the music module and strike up some Tom Waits tunes. The first few chords of Tom Traubert's Blues chime in as I open the door and it looks like someone's been doing more than waltzing Matilda in here...the seat of the toilet completely ripped off and the smell of urine peeling the walls littered with grafitti. I hold myself up while business ensues and blurrily read the scrollings on the wall. NECK FACE and SWOON are nowhere to be found and I'm left thinking "What kind of a tag name is 'shut your fucking face you fucking cow' anyway?"
I gear up with more rocket fuel for some time and I can here a scuffle outside and so I wait to have my next cigarette and scan my eyes around at the bits of artwork adorning the walls only to somehow manage to linger too long on the leather jacketed scoundrel on the corner of the bar...him staring at me and sneering while clenching a piece of a stick in between his teeth. "I'm trying to quit smoking" he tells me though this is 1 hour later and he's sitting next to me and I'm ordering him a beer. Tales of lost loves and rehab are shared and the blind woman has gained her sight back after a quick nap in the corner table and she uses her cane to hoist herself up even as gravity tries to pull her down on her exit out. I down a shot and I'm pretty sure this guy has shot someone but tonight he's a friend as is everyone here...all of us slurrily singing the lines we know to songs we've heard hundreds of times before.
Liftoff finally comes at around 4:15am and the cargo I'm carrying seems heavier now but I make it back to Earth and grab a yellow ship to take me home....tracing the buildings into the condensation on the windows and staring at my fellow humans walking in between the cars stopped at red lights. I wonder if any of them missed me while I was away...galavanting with the creatures at Mars Bar....the soft, friendly humorous creatures who are truly from another planet.
Going here was def an interesting night....when my friend and I walked in it was loud but there was no music playing, we asked for pbr but the bartender gave us Bass with no label (we only knew because the bottle was embossed), a window broke while we were there and no one seemed to be phased by it AND they had counters all along the windows and i was sitting on a stool and my friend had to sit in a leather office chair which was questionably lower than me.
It was a SHIT SHOW! We ended up leaving without finishing our questionable beers or checking out the infamous bathroom. I would however want to go back and see what's it's like in a more sober state. I love dives, but in the state I was in, it was just unreal!
I love telling my friends that they should highly recommend it to any cashmere wearing person that they dislike.
This place is the last bastion of something that died in the neighborhood a long time ago. It still boggles my mind that the same drunk old men that I drank with as a teenager still stagger around this place. Gives you hope for surviving most anything.
Anyhow, this place is a dive. A real dive, a true old man bar. I've seen people doing blow off the bar, rocker chicks dancing topless on same said bar (hard nipples--jangling chains anyone?), lots of vomiting, crackheads, fighting, bizarre conversation and generally good times. But this place is lovable. The juke box is top notch, creative and organically grown over the years and the beer is still pretty cheap (count on a buy back if you're tipping). The bathrooms are probably the scariest part but totally survivable if you've ever peed in the woods. The deal is you won't have much trouble if you don't get lippy and can take a joke. The bartenders are also quite fierce, so don't fuck with them.
If you want a dive bar then look no further. Mars Bar is everything it is cracked up to be and more. When I went, I wasn't expecting it to be SO bad. It was. Take your tourist friends there and watch them beat their eyes out and try not to touch anything, it's awesome. For a dive bar though, it's expensive and they only have bottled beer. I tried to use the bathroom, there was only one for men and women, and the door did not close all the way or lock....Guess I'll just hold it...
so here's my stars rating:
1 star: CHEAP drinks and AWESOME decor that allows you to trash the place.
2 star: AWESOME and ADORABLE Paula, whom unfortunately is only there on Tuesday nights.
The rest of the stars were lost because of a bar fight, broken glass, and the shitty bartender Josh who ended the night so coked out of his head yelling at costumers about his hatred for them while spitting on the bar rack. Thanks, but I'm not interested in your hepatitis in my drink. The ice tasted weird enough.
But a true, legit, NY survivalist from the awesome old days that I can only dream of. Don't forget to sign the book.. or the walls.. or the urinal..
PS. Josh, if you read this, polka dots are long gone... my grandma stopped wearing them before I was born... and by that (if you are too coked out to comprehend) I mean: you looked RIDICULOUS and not "hip" at all...
What the eff, this was THE grossest place ever , and it gives all trashy dive bars a bad name. The only cool thing was the miniature robot in the corner. Please get tested for Hepatitis A,B,C , AIDS and Gonorrhea after visiting this place. We did have a good laugh so I guess it was worth it. And there was this weird couple taking pictures of my boyfriend and me. You have to go there yourself to see how bad this place is.
Thanks for serving me when I was 17. You guys rock for that!!
I heard rumors of watered down vodka and people shooting up in the bathrooms. True? Lies? I don't care. A good dive bar deserves a dive bar rating....
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Neighborhood: East Village
Category: Dive Bars
Places where I drown my sorrows in alcohol. My…
From Pabst to Rheingold, only the finest brews are…
My local dry cleaner, watering hole, deli, cafe,…
A listing of my favorite haunts from coast to…
Im partial to the tenderloin but Ive got some…
Vegetarian food and good dive bars in New York…
These are my reviews that make you giggle cause…
Drunkards, drink without shame! This list is for…
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