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The Cubby Hole: Hey Magellan! The streets of the West Village make absolutely no sense, but if you want to discover this charming lesbian dive you’ll have to put your navigation skills to the test. Festive, random ceiling decorations scream “acid trip,” while drinks are served bold and strong as the patrons demand. The vibe rests on the shiny shoulders of a 250,000-song jukebox. Sundays are a must for Bloody Mary bombers—the hang-over-curing drinks practically drink themselves for $3 a pop. This outlandish crevasse is straight (or not) out of the Village of yesteryear, so sip it up, sister. |
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