Room 18

18 Spring St. (btw Elizabeth & Mott)

New York, NY 10012
(212) 219-0942

Bathroom situation - oof. One single, solitary unit in the back that caters to both Adam & Eve (which, btw, if they had two sons, how did the whole rest of the human race come from just them? Commenters, help us out here). For a space as large as this, in a neighborhood that gets as crowded as that and attracts a clientele as drunk as the third, this is an egregious oversight. Our advice: if you happen to find yourself here and you start feeling that familiar tingling sensation, just go somewhere else.
Takes credit cards? - yes, and with no discernible minimum, which is a pleasant throwback nostalgia good ol' days why isn't the Captain America movie coming out on July 4th?
Crowded on weekends? - Visceralist's first/last Room 18 experience was on a recent Friday evening. It was well after happy hour (happier hour?) and, hand to heart, hand on the Bible, all I have in this world is my word & my balls: it was pretty crowded. Enough has been said!
Seating - considering how many people they pack in here, the seating options are cantankerously limited. Flibbity-jibbet!
Neighborhood - if it can be said that SoHo has an edgy part, then Visceralist is gonna go ahead and say that Room 18 in the edgy part of SoHo. Not edgy to the point where you'd want to "tool-up" with the "biscuit" and be ready for some potential "ratchet-time" just in case it "goes down," but you might want to just double check that your wallet's actually still in your back pocket every now and then.
Pretentious/assholes - though Room 18 is the kind of nondescript SoHo hangout spot that typically does attract its fair share of Sean Parker wannabes, Visceralist didn't find anything worth fretting over.
Cost of Stella - now! Now we'll tell you why we've so far been so salty about Room 18. There's really no other way to put it other than to just come right out and blurt it right on out: cans of Tecate are 6 "Samuel L. Jackson" dollars! Each! So the first thing Visceralist did upon hearing that the two cans we just asked for would run us $12 - that is, after the smelling salts took effect and we freshened up in the restroom (after waiting in line for 10 minutes) - was to launch into a lecture that began "Where do you get off?!" And that's exactly what we did. Wait, no, that's not what we did. We paid for it with a credit card and a smiled while doing it. Fuck Our Lives.
What time people start showing up - Visceralist got there 12ish the other night and it was already gilled to the packs. Ugh, $6 for a fucking Tecate! 6! And we ain't talking Blossom's friend! Even Blossom's friend Six would know better than to charge that much for a can of that particular brand of micturition. And she was dumb enough to have a crush on Joey Whoa! And he was dumb enough to put out that terrible single that helped his album go quadruple platinum! The fuck??!
Bartender efficiency - Visceralist has never worked as a bartender, but we imagine that when it gets crowded at a place like this, from their point of view it must look like E. Honda's "100-hands" special move, with each hand annoyingly clutching a $20. Commenters, is this accurate?
Official Website - Google & Yelp say that they have room18ny.com, but they either forgot to renew their domain recently, or forgot to not be idiots, cuz their site is currently one big piece of spamshit.
Food? How late - they apparently have some nibbles earlier in the evening, but the Yelpster community says that they're nothing to resign from US Congress over.
TVs? What's on - no NBA for like the next 4 months, so no need to have a TV, we suppose.
Guy:girl ratio - airtight.
Toys - 6 fucking dollars...ssmh (the first "s" is for "still").
Age of clientele - well, it's SoHo, so you know it's all about 30 year-olds and the 50 year-olds that tolerate them.
Space for dancing? - if they persist in charging $6 for cans of Tecate, then the only dancing that Visceralist is interested in is the "Ottoman hump" dance that we'll be doing on Room 18's grave when they finally go under.
Music medium, style & volume - why isn't there a foursquare for music?
Specials or most popular drink - if they even have Stella here, it's probably like $22 a bottle or something. Fuck's sake...

Loreley

7 Rivington St. (btw Bowery & Chrystie)

New York, NY 10002
(212) 253-7077

Bathroom situation - 2 single-use rooms on the right just before you reach the hostess' stand [ed. damn, why's it gotta be a hostESS? Huh? Fuckin' better watch it with that chauvinist bullshit 'round here]. Guys, make sure you put the seat down when you're done, goddammit! How many times do you have to be told!?
Takes credit cards? - yeah, and btw why does Chase have the most pointless Rewards Points program out of all of them? These points don't do shit for you...like the Door Close button on an elevator.
Crowded on weekends? - shit, like Visceralist would know. Nobody goes to places with addresses on the weekends anymore. The fuck outta here with that bullshit...
Seating - 8-10 stools at the bar in front, 4 high-top tables in front too. A gang of biergarten-style tables in the wait-service area in back and a small outdoor backyard. Plenty to go around, so put your butt on something!!
Neighborhood - right in the midst of downtown Manhattan's restaurant supply store rainforest. Generally no problem catching a cab on Bowery tho, so no need for the machete [ed. smh, extending that metaphor was a nah-nah].
Pretentious/assholes - yeah, you'll likely find some Chads & Beckys here who breathed a sigh of relief when they read about Shepard Fairey's, like, fave spots in NYC, cuz it's like an official co-sign that, yes, they have been going to the right downtown "Spots" all these years. *fist bump*
Cost of Stella - they don't have it here, but holy hell, why didn't anyone ever tell Visceralist about this heavenly pilsner they call Radeberger?! Peace, Stella. You will always be forgotten.
What time people start showing up - dinnertime most nights....if it's a weekend night, they'll stick around til late night...if not, deuces.
Bartender efficiency - the dude here the other night was a bit ditsy, but otherwise reasonably apt. He accidentally knocked his iPod (aka the evening's DJ/Jukebox) on the ground, but it's a good thing most Apple products are totally shatter-resis...ohh...
Official Website - here. As NYC bar sites go, it's wayyyy ahead of the pack, but shit, is it really this hard for bars (or any company, really) to actually put some effort into its Web 2.0 presence? Web 3.0 is coming, kids, and it's 'bout to be a cold winter for some of y'all....#generalizedshotsfired.
Food? How late - some of us here at Visceralist were fed sauerkraut as kids in day-care (i.e. at roughly 6 years old). That shit'll stay with you...
TVs? What's on - one or two above the bar in front. Mostly showing Premiere League shit, which is so "Really?!" that it's as played-out and obvious as SNL's "Really?!" Weekend Update shit has become.
Guy:girl ratio - who really pays attention to this shit anymore....
Toys - they have a downstairs lounge area for private parties, but Yelp says that the Loreley staff stays droppin' the ball like Brett Favre's recently-became-a-grandfather ass when it comes to coordinating logistics for downstairs private parties, so beware.
Age of clientele - mostly the age that really [ed. REALLY] should be planning on voting in the upcoming midterms, but really [ed. REALLY] won't.
Space for dancing? - maybe downstairs? Not sure, they lost Visceralist's reservation...then! acted like Visceralist was at fault. Now, Visceralist was at fault, but you don't have to modulate your voice to the point where all our friends who were standing around can actually hear you explaining exactly how we Brett Favre'd that night up. Damn, couldn't you see that we were trying to get with that one chick in the scarf that night? Sheeit.
Music medium, style & volume - bartender's iPod (like the old one that holds like 250 gigs or whatever...damn, they still make those? Bartenders that have those, we mean).
Specials or most popular drink - prolly some kind of beer or something.


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Firefly

54 Spring St.
New York, NY 10012
212-966-8716

Bathroom situation - two in the middle of the damn joint, right next to where they punch in orders on those big busy-restaurant touchscreens (do they use these at like Aquavit too? Visceralist would NOT know). The men's has a stall and two urinals but it looked like the women's was single-person. Comments section, is that accurate?
Takes credit cards? - yes, but watch your damn bill lest they ring up some extra Amstels on the low-low and hope you don't notice. Really, Firefly? Is the recession that bad? Ain't that a bitch.
Crowded on weekends? - for realsies...this is maybe the only sports bar in SoHo and you know who actually hangs out in SoHo...so you know what it is. [ed. the hell does this mean?]
Seating - the typical bar-stool setup in front, but their backroom has seats like a muthafucka. It's actually set up like a regular ol' bullshit thai restaurant, but they have...whoops, lemme save that for later...
Neighborhood - cowboyin' the SoHo-Little Italy border, but still easily accesible by the 6 train, so go nuts.
Type of crowd - apparently, the type of cunts who either don't notice or don't care about the waiters adding a few so-and-so's to the bill at the end of the evening.
Pretentious/assholes - Visceralist feels that this category should be expanded to potentially include the wait-staff if need-be, but the Irish-accented host at this place was actually fairly reasonable, so we won't let a few bad apples...
Cost of Stella - according to my waitress, like $6...but who knows, really. That bill was denser than Cambodian algebra.
What time people start showing up - depends on what conference is playing...but like 8.
Bartender efficiency - given that it's likely you'll be in the back, which is wait-service, expect restaurant-type wait-service. Which is to say, you'll get impatient. Bring a flask.
Official Website - here. They describe themselves as a "Soho nightspot" and the site automatically plays house music. BUT. It does provide very solid directions. Also, its "Links" section (for what?) solely consists of the bar across the street's website.
Food? How late - full bar-food style menu with a surprisingly solid salad menu. Presumably goes all night. But, again, check to make sure your bill consists of stuff that you actually ordered.
TVs? What's on - OK, so this is actually one of the better sports-bars in the sub-Houston area. They feature a gang of huge-screens showing whatever the fuck they want. Like, they really have cable. That they pay for. Legally. And word is that they take requests. So you (sorta) get what you pay for. So chillax, brah.
Guy:girl ratio - this place isn't really feng shui enough to engender intermingling...BUT, if you happen to meet someone while waiting to use the restroom, there's maybe a 30% chance it'll be someone of the other gender (if you're a dude).
Toys - Los televisores. I televisi. Les televisiones. Plus romance.
Age of clientele - mid to upper-mid 20s. And yes, 24-year-olds...you're officially mid-20s. Life's over. Suck it up.
Space for dancing? - word around citysearch is that the backroom becomes a juke-joint later on at night, but Visceralist has yet to see any evidence of this. Leave the zoot suits and poodle-skirts at home till further notice.
Décor - leaning towards television-centric. Book-learners need not...
Grimeyness - for some reason this place is actually going for an upscale SoHo sports-bar trifecta that can never really work in practice. But still, du-rags get frowned upon.
ID check procedure - n/a. Plus, it's close to NYU. Too bad NYU's only varsity sport is triflin'.
Music medium, style & volume - the sound of MVP James doin' work isn't technically music, but it will ring out 'round these parts.
Specials or most popular drink - their website says their "happy hour is Mon-Fri"...which is so pathetic that Visceralist will leave it at that.
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