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What a gloriously cheap shithole The Patriot Saloon is.
Once when drinking with a couple of guys in there, one showed me a short film he made; a montage of the Kentucky Derby that he had just sent off somewhere important to his burgeoning career and for the most part it was actually quite good.
But I didn't have the heart to tell him Jack Daniels is distilled in Tennessee.
I sent out an email a couple days before my birthday that read like this:
Who turns 26 on Tuesday? This girl!
Who loves dive bars? Also this girl!
So when the fateful day arrived and the workday was finished with, off to The Patriot we went. I love this bar because it makes me feel at home, and oddly I am not a 50 year old alcoholic man. Rather, I'm just a girl from Western Massachusetts with a fondness for cheap beer and a deep seated hatred for pretension.
Well get ready, because there are no pretenses at The Patriot. You will see at least 80% of the bartenders boobs. You will feel vaguely sticky by the time you leave. You will pay between 6 and 11 dollars for a pitcher of decent beer. You will appreciate the Johnny Cash/Credence rotation on a juke box. You will unabashedly get randomly completely trashed on a weeknight...
OK, maybe that's just me. But it was my birthday, and it was the Patriot, and there are no judgments here. Shut up and drink.
This place truly embodies the phrase "Den of Filth."
EVERY time i've been here, at least one bar tender has been significantly drunker than 99% of the bar, which i think is cool and classy.
You couldn't pay me to take a dump in this place. The bathroom is foul.
You know a place is classy in Manhattan when they serve beer in pitchers as well as by the pint. But what's even more amazing is the decor of this place: both on the walls and in the form of its clientele/employees. It's lit almost entirely by the neon beer signs decorating its walls. And the bartender... wow. I really want to know where she gets her outfits, because they're stripper good. I mean, how she keep its all in place... I want to know her secret. I bow to you Miss Scantilly Clad bartender lady. You rock. Now I know why I had to show my id to the bouncer at the door. NSFKids.
The jukebox is 3 songs to $1: country, Creedence, The Doors, more country. You'll find Abby Road, but no Stones. Lots of Johnny Cash and rebel country. Old school country. New school country. I always pick Dolly Parton's "Jolene," which, as I've heard, the bartender may or may not dance to.
You can also get some cheap bar food here.
The ladies room was not horrible, it was rather passable. I trusted it more than many less sketchy establishments on this island.
I do not know how long I was here as I was imbibing pitchers of Brooklyn Lager. But a good time was had.
This place is truly a vacation from New York: Grab your friends and make a night of the bar that will magically transport you to any other city in America but New York.
I remember when I discovered The Patriot trying to find a place near my friend's play. Aaaaand I don't remember much else. I can only go here about once a year because every time I go, the super-friendly female bartenders welcome my friends and me with free shots (just for being female in what is mostly a sausage den) and convince us to dance on the bar, for which we're rewarded with more free shots. It's extremely dangerous going here. And by dangerous I mean super fun and super cheap followed by a guaranteed hellish hangover.
They also have good $1 sliders (and maybe other food too?), a pool table, and a country-only jukebox to assist with the on-the-bar dancing. Hey, once a year, it's exactly how I need to roll.
Week 3 of our Thirsty Thursday adventures took us to the Patriot. A dive it def. is. The prices were reasonable and the locale dark, loud and a little bit on the dirty side. Meaning: its exactly where you wanna be after a long week.
The ladies tending the bar are tre hot, and the mens room looks like a room taken straight out of Prince's 80's Minnesota mansion. Didn't make it upstairs much, but its got a lot of space, almost more than they know what to do with on a Thursday.
All in all, a nice place to get your drunk on with friends and listen to a stream of country music. Where that fits in, I have no idea.
It doesn't get any better than listening to Johnny Cash while being served 2$ PBR's by a girl wearing a top made out of candy necklaces. It really doesn't. There are a million bars with the same quirky, dirty, diveyness back in Portland. I will never know why there aren't more bars here like the Pat.
I came back after years of it being just a memory. I didn't even know the name, but I remembered the feel, and I thought this was mine. But I was a different person then.
Today it's the same amazing mini-hamburgers. Possibly better.
Same cheap drinks and pitchers. Damn cheap pitchers. I take it less for granted today.
And the bartenders wear the same scant clothes, but today they are dumber and less enticing. Maybe it's just me that's changed. Maybe I've skipped over that league from my early 20s to the late ones.
Today you're guaranteed to hear non-stop Johnny Cash songs. That's what northern urbanites play at country bars after all, right? At my first discovery, it was before the movie came out, before he died, and before flannel was hip. I was one of the few who put a JC record on. Or maybe it just seemed that way. And maybe I was more conscious of that then.
Now, tired of monotony, I looked for some Stevie Ray Vaughan and unfortunately there just isn't enough room for that legend. Replaced by rockabilly and JC. And Carly Simon's "Legend" takes a seat at the bar, eats 8 mini-hamburgers and drinks a pitcher, and leaves for the last time. Replaced by rockabilly and JC.
Look, it's a rung below dive, you know, a sh!thole - but they make no bones about it and keep it much more real than Hogs & B&Ters or Coyote Painful (places I refuse to ever step in again). Keeping it real - what's that? It's cheap and it's filthy. I'm probably too old for the place at this point but I still like me some whiskey with my David Allan Coe and they do that with a smile. On the downside I think they'd need to burn the place to ground before the stale beer smell (occasionally mixed with ammonia) would subside.
DO NOT GO HERE. Yes its cheap but, this place is a total shit hole. It smells like stale beer and puke. If you're a woman don't go here, its full of creepy older men (not cute young ones in suits to flirt with or buy you drinks). If you're a man don't go here (there are no ladies). The bad country music is obnoxiously loud and lacks diversity. The fat miserable slob of a bar owner, Tommy McNeil, I've personally seen passed out on the floor of the bar at closing, pants down, and peed in. The clean up guy was actually mopping around him, it was pretty funny. In addition I've seen giant cockroaches and mice (at their spanish harlem location, The Duck).
The worst place to have a drink while simultaneously being the best place to get drunk in all of Manhattan.
First off, my friends Molly C. and Brian H. get 5+ stars.
The Patriot? Um....two stars and that's *generous* (yes, the beer is cheap, however....well, read on my friend).
Good stuff:
Our bartender upstairs could not have been sweeter (what the hell was her name??). She bought us Jameson shots and a couple beers. AND, she called everyone "babe." What's not to like about that? Plus, in one of those totally random NYC moments that I love, later on in the evening we ran into her at the, um, Raccoon Lodge. Yes, we were on a dive bar crawl it seems....
Random thoughts that occurred to me while sitting at the Patriot:
"Why is this place as humid as the aquarium section at some small pet stores, and why does it smell so similarly?"
"Are Molly and I the only other women--besides the scantily clad bartenders-- here?" (seriously, the percentage of men to women is 80% to 20%, if that).
"Do they only play two kinds of music on the juke box?" Answer, yes. Country AND Western.
"How many times in one night can anyone tolerate Skynyrd?"
"Why are these two old dudes staring at me? Oh, God, no. No, noooooo...are they coming over to talk to me? Halp!!" *
Yes, unfortunately while two people (who shall remain nameless, haha), went outside for a smoke the two "older dudes" did talk to me....making comments about my texting another friend, and asking me in slurred words, "whaaat color is your hair?"
Me: "Uhhhh, well, it's dark brown." (I then turn away, back to my texting)
::tap on my shoulder::
"Excuse me...if you don't mind my asking...what color is your hair normally?"
Me: "Um, brown-ish reddish."
The three of us had planted our asses at the bar for several hours...and it well, was time to move on to our next destination.
*Ladies, as others have mentioned in previous reviews, if you're going to go to the Patriot, go with a group of men *and* women. Definitely not a ladies bar.
Somewhere in the construction fog at the Chambers exit of the A/C I had managed to forget how to get to the bar though I'd been there a dozen times before. But using the 7-Eleven as my north star I was able to get back on track as I made my way up to the Patriot Saloon...almost running into an older woman as she sprinted for the bus going up Church Street. I was there to meet two fellow Yelpers, Molly C. and Lisa A. but they had not arrived by the time I got inside. I muscled my way through the downstairs bar which was packed with businessman just getting off of work and a paltry scattering of females here and there.
My cell phone buzzes in my pocket as I head upstairs and it's Lisa letting me know she's on her way. I find a seat at the bar next to a man who looks as though he's been there for years. He strugglingly shakes himself off of his stool and before heading to the bathroom asks me if I've been outside having a smoke. "This guy must be telepathetic" I'm thinking but he explains to me that everyone who goes outside to smoke gets "the mark." Ahhhh yes, I forgot about the chalkboard outside and as I dust myself off, a shot of Jameson jumps in my mouth followed by a PBR chasing after it.
Molly heads in, dusting her chair off (even the stools must smoke) and sits next to me with Lisa not far behind. Introductions are made and shit is shot for the next couple of hours with generous buy backs and laughs all around. Things start to get foggy I notice and my voice level is going up much to the disdain of Molly. "Stop screaming" she shouts and I think I'm done for but we make amends outside over Parliament Lights as poor Lisa fends for herself with the beligerent elderly at the bar.
As we exit the Patriot for food I make a mental note to only drink here alone...certainly never with anyone you're trying to impress for the first time. My four star original review diminishes to 3 as we turn on to Church Street...with Lisa patting the residual chalky white powder off my winter coat.
I had lost my native tongue somewhere between Chambers Street and Franklin...the sensors between… Read more »
People throw the term 'dive bar' around pretty freely these days... want to come to a dive bar that's actually a disgusting shithole? Come to the Patriot. Somehow we've been ending up here late night the last couple weeks, and it's kind of a nice change. I've blacked out two out of the last three times I've gone here, because the bartenders feed us free liquor. Not beers, shots.
The bathroom is the most disgusting in New York, which puts it high in the running for most disgusting in the civilized world. The bartenders are, sorry girls, less than mediocre-looking; they're pretty much all ubers, I really hope they don't read this. The crowd is random as hell (people who don't look like they have a lot of contact with 'mainstream society') and the music is constant country.
I go here because it's a nice change from what I'm used to (don't really ever leave Ludlow). Don't go expecting to 'make friends' or 'hear your favorite song,' go with your best friends when you're already wasted. It's real fun despite everything I just said.
It is 7:30 pm and I am still hungover from spending last night at Patriot.
I frequent Patriot because it's close to my grad school. The disgustingly cheap pitchers don't hurt either.
The music is loud, and after drinking a few of said pitchers some people like to spend 20 dollars at the jukebox playing the same song 20 times. But if you're going to listen to the same song 20 times it might as well be Johnny Cash or Bob Dylan.
The bartenders are amazing. Elaine played cards with us for a while and then came back with dirty girl scout shots after we threw a bra on one of the light fixtures and definitely made our night much more entertaining.
Patriot is the perfect dark dive bar to wander into any time you find yourself in this neighborhood, it's even better if you go after a long day at work.
Absolutely despicable. An absolute dive, craphole.
If you are a girl that has any class, do NOT go here. There is one bartender who lights her nipple on fire to show off. I am not kidding. (I think you need to say its your birthday or something for her to do it). She takes out her boob, lights a match, and sticks the non-ignited side of the match onto her nipple and then will have one of the horny men at the bar blow it out.
With that said, you can only imagine the type of men this place attracts...
This is a great place to go when you're looking for really cheap pitchers of beer and scantly clad bartendresses who are eager to please. At $6.50 for a pitcher of PBR there's no way you can go wrong, especially if you get a few of your own! Shots come big and cheap as well, as I got myself a very healthy amount of 151 for only $4.50, definently a great way to start the evening.
Also, for a dive I must admit that there chairs are pretty damn comfortable.
Added bonus, the bouncers are mighty friendly, especially Mike.
The Patriot has basically everything you would want in a dive bar: the extremely cheap booze ($6.50 pitchers of PBR, $4 shots, and $5 Beck's 24 ounce bombers), the decently priced bar food, loud country and classic rock music, and skimpily dressed, very friendly and entertaining bartenders. The two floors make rush hours bearable, even though this bar is often less crowded than it should be for how cheap the drinks are. Also, ladies usually are treated to free drinks. The clientele is getting more professional and less construction worker, but the ambiance has stayed the same since I've been going there.
All in all, this is the best bar for the price in Manhattan. It has nearly spoiled me with their cheap prices and I'm glad it's around!
The Patriot is noxious after the happy hour set leaves. It's mildly entertaining, though, to watch the algae of the City Hall district ogle bartenders dressed in undergarments sized to fit a tween. But this place earned a spot in my heart for the $6 pitchers (and buybacks) and for one autumn afternoon when I decamped work a bit before the 5PM whistle.
Sitting at a table at the foot of the stairs, I looked up in time to avoid the headfirst descent of a heavily intoxicated man with a fishing line in his hand. He was helped to his feet, eyes closed, by two bartenders. He came to just in time to tell the downstairs bartender, "you have fantastic fucking tits, honey!"
After describing my evening at the Patriot Saloon to my friend, her only response was: did you go to drunk town? My answer: all signs point to yes.
This place was awesome. I saw a guy dive face first off a bar stool onto the floor and a girl fall off the top of the bar, only to be helped up by 3-4 "attentive" males. The bartnedress asked us if she could do car bombs with us...yes I think this place is pretty awesome.
I have to say, though, this place definitely lacks women. Outside the bartendresses, there were only 3 other girls in the place, including me. Not such a great ratio. The girls at the bar were hot, so I guess they made up for the initial deficiency.
Definitely come here for some cheap drinks and some down and dirty fun.
This is becoming a bit like an abusive relationship.
Maybe I am too uptight for this place, but I feel as cheap as the beer here. And I really don't even… Read more »
The First star is for the generous bartenders; love them all
Second star is for their generous outfits
Third star those incredible burgers
Fourth star - that chalkboard of laughs
Fifth star - it's an oasis of true character; the diamond in the triangle beneath Canal.
+ James the bouncer is my dude.
+ The bartender, whose name may or may not be Patience, gave me at least 3 free drinks out of the 5 or 6 I had that night, one of them including a shot. That shot was for being the only other girl in the bar. I love female camaraderie like you wouldn't believe, especially when we're surrounded by guys making dick jokes every 10 seconds. And she's one of the coolest, most laid-back people I've ever met in my life.
+ The drinks are cheaper here than at my regular dive bars in Athens, GA. And this place is in Tribeca, which as I understand it, is one of those bougie areas of Manhattan.
- I'm not much into country, but I'm trying to change that. Turns out that's all that's in the jukebox. I almost peed my unmentionables when I saw Dylan and the Beatles... those and Cash were my jukebox loves of the night.
- Both the bathrooms probably had the AIDS floating through the air. It was reported that the men's bathroom actually had human fecal matter on the seat. Boys, really? Why are boys' bathrooms so much dirtier than girls' bathrooms, ALWAYS?
+ I went on a Sunday night, so it was just my friends and I and the bartender, and the odd straggler here and there. As such, we got to know her very well. The two channels she watches exclusively are the Food Network and Antiques Roadshow. A woman after my own heart.
If you don't have time for overpriced/underpoured drinks and holier-than-thou motherfuckers, saunter in here. Just make sure your bladder is empty like a case of champagne at New Year's, and do exercises to extend your holding time. Or wear Depends.
"We serve hard drinks here for men who want to get drunk quick, and we don't need any characters around the joint for 'atmosphere.'" - Nick the bartender, It's a Wonderful Life
It pains me to only give this place three stars. For several years, my friends and I made this our go to "cheap" bar. Beer is reasonably priced by the pitcher and the can, as are the shots. I love the jukebox, which is primarily made up of classic 70s and 80s country. And the pretty waitresses and bartenders are something to look at.
But as the years have gone on, the word about the Patriot has spread. We have gone there on a few recent Saturday nights, and whereas there used to be a decent, but manageable crowd, now the place has become too crowded to make it to the bar. What good are cheap drinks if you can't make your way over to buy any?
The Patriot will forever hold a special place in my heart, but it has been relegated to a once in a while destination for non peak hour revelry. I am glad the bar is successful, as success is well deserved. But it seems that the Patriot is a victim of it's own success.
by the end of the night I saw the bartenders' boobs (yes, multiple bartenders and multiple sets of boobs) more than I've seen my own since they started to grow in when I was 12. The worst part? The boobies....not so nice. It's really the quality of the ta-ta's that brought the star numbers down. I mean not everybody is blessed like me *snort/chortle*
Put that shit away there, cougar, and get me my pitcher of Bud Light and put some hustle in it! These onion rings are cold. No, I DON'T want to touch your boobs I have two DD's of my own, thank you very much!
You do not come to the patriot for any other reason than the cheap beer and frequent breast sightings. Period. End of story.
Go upstairs and tell Katalina it's your birthday.
That is... if she still works there. God I hope she still works there!
This place is... awesome. PBR on draft, and free shots for dancing on the bar. Or... free shots in general. Country playing on the jukebox. Your shoes sticking to the beer soaked floor. The bartenders are usually drunk and sometimes passed out behind the bar while wearing next to nothing. You drink your face off and avoid going to the bathroom at all cost in case you catch something from just touching the door knob. Toothless old guy in the corner creepily leering at the bartenders/all females.
Good times, good times.
I'm not sure if this is owned by the same folks that owned Yogi's up on the UWS, but it's got a very similar vibe -- it's cheap, it's awesome and it's full of country music.
I drank cheap American beer, I flirted with the waitress and I came incredibly close to talking my two female tablemates into dancing on the bar. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to pull that off but I did get to hear David Allan Coe's "You Don't Even Know My Name" which means grandma got run over by a train on my way to pick her up. Any night that includes that song, frankly, is a success in my book.
It's crappy, it's cheap and it's got an upstairs with a dartboard and a pool table. But downstairs is where the magic happens.*
* - Magic as heretofore described not guaranteed by establishment or purveyor of opinion and cannot be held accountable for forays by interested parties that do not result in any magical happenstance. Yelp and this reviewer are not to be held liable, representative or even considered interested if you do not, in fact, experience said magic.
Barmaids wearing skin-tight clothing, "signs stolen from random people" on the wall, a bra-laden chandelier, and cheap-ass PBR on tap. What else do you need, people?!
The "menu" on the wall only showed six or so things. It was a statement of belief. "Listen: We aren't here for high cuisine. We're not here because you want a fancy dancy trendy drink. If you want those things, screw you. You won't get them from us." Boo yeah.
A friend and I thought this place RULED. It had a slightly different vibe than the Raccoon Lodge down the street--this had a "frat party of my youth" angle. The Raccoon Lodge, on the other-hand, had a rural "bar near the woods" aspect to it.
Oh--and there was some semi-homeless looking man walking around with a pitcher of PBR, muttering to himself. (I think he was just a CCNY student, actually.)
All things considered, the Patriot Saloon is worthy of a night's bar crawl. Tell the bearded weirdo with the pitcher I say hello.
Bloody hell, I love dive bars.
It's a dive. a deep down dive. right from the bras on the ceiling and Johnny Cash turned up to 11 atmosphere to the racist graffiti in the bathroom. I felt like I stumbled into Middle America in Tribeca.
I think the first red light should have been that it had a neon light for Pabst in the window. Usually that isn't the kind of a beer a place is proud of selling. Anyway, I order the 'classiest' beer on tap, which was Stella. So if you're the kind of drinker who likes the low end of the beer spectrum, this Bud's for you.
It's cheap. That's redeeming. The signs outside are a little off-putting. Especially considering that we brought two ladies into the bar with us, and let's just say that they surely stood out. There's a word for this, I think it's "Sausage-fest."
i can't hate on the patriot. as i hunkered down at the bar with lisa a. and brian h., dusting off my seat...literally...chalky dust was all over it, i thought...wow. this place reminds me of some place in sheboygan, wi.
$2 pbr, free shots on the bartender and good company made this place fun.
a word of advice from a girl who knows, stay upstairs. downstairs was PACKED.
The bar tenders and even the bouncer were very friendly. The beers were cheap. And even though they didn't have the best tap list, I've seen worse and I will cut them a break because their prices are so cheap for NYC ($3-4 pints, $6-12 pitchers, and even $2 PBR's!). We went on a Saturday night around 12 and it wasn't too packed either. I didn't even mind the country music mixed in with the rock (and I hate country music so that's saying something).
I think that even your prude friends can enjoy this place if they got over the fact that all of the bartenders are scantily clad and will occasionally walk on the bar like in that movie coyote ugly. Give it a try, you won't regret it.
Oh almost forgot to add I was amused at the fact that they had $1.50 cheeseburgers/$1.00 burgers. I would never try a burger at that price unless I was wasted (which I'm sure is what they were going for), but it made me laugh.
I walked by today and the chalkboard outside said, "Wanted: Shameless Slut Bartenders"
I don't care what their reasoning is, that's offensive.
Wow, this place sucks ass. Is this a bar or the wet dream of Maxim readers? Our bartender was nattily dressed that night, modeling a mesh tank leaving zero to the imagination. Nice bra by the way and lime green is my favorite color too. Yes the beer is cheap but wow...we couldn't stay here past our first round of drinks and we don't mind dive bars. Too much country music BLASTING from the speakers for my taste. And sweep the floor once in a while. And air that musty space out. Enjoy your drink like an adult and spend some of your hard earned ducats on a place not slapping you across the face with their stupidity.
Is this where they put strippers out to pasture?
It sure feels that way. I used to live in the Financial District, and I've been here 2 or 3 times. It's dank, it's nasty, it's a bit uncomfortable in a "this place is kinda weird" sortof way. The thing is, there are those rare times in life when you actually want that bizarre dive bar experience, and I think it's safe to say this is a good spot for that = 3 stars. I think every time I've been here the bartenders are falling out of their tops and their "Daisy Duke shorts" are so short they would make Daisy Duke blush. There certainly is an "anything goes" vibe here. The music as I recall was a bit country, which is awful, but whatever. The drinks are very cheap, which is nice. I've never been upstairs so I guess I missed out on the scandal, whicih is really a shame.
There are good dive bars, and there are dive bars that one should steer well clear of. This is the latter.
The one star is for the bartenders that gave quick and cheerful service, all while keeping their tops on. Kudos, ladies, you can pour a beer or a weak mixed drink.
I'd've given a star for the jukebox, but Johnny Cash was the only good option and there wasn't even any of his best songs.
The only reason I'd go back is if I missed the "townie atmosphere" of the bars in the rural areas back home. And I don't miss it. So I won't be back. So there.
Kudos to the people who have actually ventured in here but shame on you for knocking down those people who like a little Jack Daniels with their lunch.
This place is the twilight zone. It's in a HORRIBLE part of town, not scary, just not somewhere anyone should be after 5PM.
The drinks are priced RIGHT and if you are half-decent looking the bartenders will usually give you free shots.
Speaking of the bartenders, I don't know where to begin. Last time we were in there there was a nice-looking brunette who was literally falling out of the burlesque-style top she was wearing. Best (or worst) part was, she didn't seem to care!
The more the crowd gets into it, the more of a show the bar becomes. I honestly can say I have a hilariously great time every night I get dragged in there after work.
Haven't been upstairs so I can't comment on it.
But if you're in the area or just want a place to hang out with the yokels and get smashed with a capital S, this is your place. Truly a gem.
PS - the juke box is comprised solely of old school country and honky tonk so if you don't like Cash or Haggard, stay away.
PPS - Cash only.
I am giving this a reluctant 4 star review. I do like the place. It is one of those bars that is so fun but filled with really unsavory characters though. I mean don't get me wrong I have been here a few times so far and see some cool kats too. The bartenders are pretty hot so that is good and the PBR is dirt cheap. I say go on a sat or tues night and you should have a really good time. Last time I was there I was a little dissappointed I did not see this really cute barmaid I would see on sat nights (I believe she told me she is there tuesday as well). I have been here and 5 times so far and expect to be back at least sometimes in the next three weeks. Maybe a tues, maybe a sat. I forgot the really cute barmaid's name though debbir or Diane (in that range)
Man, this place IS a total dive. Seedy, trashy bartenders - check. Bras and other undergarments hanging from the ceiling and walls - check. Dirty - check. Large reptile dating back to the dinosaurs hanging from the ceiling - check.
It is also fun. Where else can a girl dance on the bar to Johnny Cash while being fed free shots? We attempted to buy a round of shots for friends and ended up accidentally doing 8 shots, 7 of them free. total accident. The beers are totally cheap, it's true. A pitcher of PBR for less than $6 - isn't that what you hipsters dream of?
The owner is friendly, perhaps a little too much. He has sworn my friend Edwina is his next ex-wife though, so BACK OFF LADIES!
Upstairs or down - the Patriot is a good time, always.
I like The Patriot, but I do not and never have worked in the Financial District, so I hardly ever go there because it's just too much of a trek. The long distance to get here from wherever I have lived in NYC is the only reason why this bar can't get 5 stars.
But, it's still always a fun place. The vibe reminds me of the Village Idiot (R.I.P.) with the crazy bartenders, country music and distinct smell of vomit/urine/attempts to forget. The food actually isn't too bad also, especially for the price.
Personally, I think the best times to go here are either too late for Happy Hour/too early to go out during the week or late afternoon on the weekends. The bar won't be busy (because of its location it hardly ever is), but you'll have the full attention of a likely attractive bartender who just wants to get you drunk.
Plus, you'll be sure to meet some NYC characters as well. Last time I was here we met a guy who was carrying around a toy light saber (see picture of bartender with said saber) who had a list written down of all the songs he likes on the jukebox and their corresponding numbers. He was a little weird, but if I wanted to hear Let Your Love Flow and didn't want to search for it, he could help me. You won't find that kind of hospitality at too many other places in this fair city.
The Village Idiot may be no more, but the tradition of cheap beers & shots,
and bubbly, flirty bartenders continues here.
Definitely the best dive bar in NYC south of Canal St., there's a 2nd bar upstairs with a pool table, another cute bartender & another jukebox loaded with country-rock like The Hangdogs & The Marshall Tucker Band.
A more laid-back vibe here than the defunct Village Idiot or Yogi's, The Patriot makes a good after-work decompression chamber, and it's a nice, mellow spot during the weekend afternoons. Thurs., Fri. & Sat. nights get pretty crowded, as you'd expect.
Long live owner Tommy O'Neil and The Patriot. (Yogi's, too).
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