Remember the good ol’ days before “chill” became the operative word for contempo-casual bars? Those days are here again. In the way-West Village, Automatic Slim’s channels the freewheeling atmosphere of Coyote Ugly, minus the sense of shame and the chlamydia. This tiny space sometimes brings to mind images of sardines in a can, but even that doesn’t dampen the wild fun on Thursdays, when a decent mix of American grub keeps crowds coming back for more and a mixed music selection, plucked from as far back as the ’70s, keeps the after-hours crowd—businessmen and 20-something singles—on their feet. The highlight? That sloshed, normally introverted girl finally throwing caution to the wind after several shots and hoofing on the counter. Yes, happy days are here again.