Unusual Gin Joints, pt.2

STINGERS
East 52nd Street (?)
New York City

I debated with myself long and hard over Stingers’ inclusion in this list. Stingers is the Gin Joint equivalent of a booty call. By that, I mean it was wholly unremarkable establishment with an asinine name but it was always cheap, easy, lively and close to home. You never wanted to be seen there though you frequented the place more often than you’d care to admit to your buddies. And deep down inside, you actually liked it.

I reckon most of the crowd in Stingers consisted mostly of mediocre middle management between bad marriages who frequently turned after-work drinks into yet another hung-over day at the office. There were cougars and buffoons, cheap suits and extraordinary nails. Stingers could probably lay claim to the unnecessary laurel of the best B-52 in the city, as the quantity ordered therein must have provided ample opportunity for refinement.

The key assets of Stingers, from my seat at the bar, were the two young Irish brothers that ran the place. Joe was the alpha brother with the requisite brogue and moustache that you would want in your local publican. We were regular enough with the booty calls that Joe was always quick with the buyback and would occasionally allow us to take over the music. He was disgruntled in a jocular and admirable fashion and dealt with discord in a ‘I’ll show you, motherfucker’ manner. We once watched a waitress return a drink to Joe from a customer who claimed it wasn’t strong enough. ‘Not strong enough!?’ he shouted down the bar and proceeded to pour a four count of 151 proof rum back into the glass. ‘Ask her if it’s strong enough now.’

As you would probably guess, Stingers is long gone and frankly is not missed.