O’Neill’s: If your idea of a good time is getting drunk among the suits with whom you’re paid to spend the workday with, O’Neill’s happy hour has your name all over it. Throw down some potato skins and jalapeno poppers along with $4 pints and you’ll soon be a little closer to the cardiac arrest you’re probably hoping for at this point. Though the office boys might not appreciate it, you’d be flummoxed to find a nicer staff in Midtown, and you’ve got to give it up to the lads and lassies that can work this crowd with a smile. There’s nothing wrong with this run-of-the-mill pub, but there’s nothing right about the unfortunate crowd. |
